


Justice, Integrity, Service

by williewildkat



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alex Deserves To Be Loved, Alex K Has Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Injury, Charleston (Location), Courtroom Drama, Creole Language, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Death Threats, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Gen, Gun Violence, Human Trafficking, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Insomnia, Minor Character Death, My OFC Is Stubborn But So Is Barba, My Readers Are Awesome, Night Terrors, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Protectiveness, Rufus Is A Federal Judge HA HA, Sarcasm, Spanish, Threats of Violence, Trauma, US marshals - Freeform, Violence, What Was I Thinking?, Witness Protection, i promise smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williewildkat/pseuds/williewildkat
Summary: AU- Post s19 e13 - The Undiscovered Country.Barba thought he was done with the judicial system, but, fate says otherwise.New city, new people, new cases......Alex Koch is a U.S. Marshal with past trauma, some anger issues, and maybe some alcohol issues.Little did either know how their lives would change....A LOT.





	1. Prologue: Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> A US Marshal is considered to have the most dangerous job in the US. 
> 
> Everyone on the team is there for their own reasons in this story. 
> 
> I will put warnings in the notes for each chapter. I draw upon real life cases, stories, and my knowledge of these subjects but there may be light liberties taken for story telling purposes.

What was really left for him in New York? Memories?  He resigned from his position ADA despite the vocal objections of his now former boss, DA Sam McCoy, who had even called after he packed his belongings and watched as his lifetime friend and foe, the City and People of New York vanish in his rearview mirror.

_“Are you sure you wanna do this Rafael?”_

_“Jack, it’s time for me to move on; as I told Liv.”_

The heaviness laced each syllable that formed along his tongue.  He had to leave, despite McCoy literally showing up at his place, giving a final stand to convince Barba to stay on. 

 The jury had found him not guilty of murder, which he was ever thankful for.  But, had he been presented with the same situation, he would’ve done it all over again without thinking twice.  Baby Drew was dying; dying cell by cell, bit by bit every second of every day he remained on the damned ventilator.  His parents were suffering mentally, physically, and spiritually.  His father had taken his son “hostage” with a pellet gun, striving in vain to keep the machines from going off. Barba didn’t want to try the case but, Jack McCoy, the unrelenting DA, hard ass and asshole, and his boss had stated rather bluntly, “We’re not in the compassion business, Rafael.”

  After the trial, he had been approached by the infant’s parents.  Rafael anticipated some intense emotional exchange, anticipating harsh words which would harbor no substance.  His chest had constricted, his throat tightened like an invisible noose as they came up to his side.  Their eyes displayed not anger or rage but harbored respite towards the man who had been given a taxing and difficult task.

_“Mr. Barba, thank you.  Our Drew is no longer suffering.”_

At least his god would be forgiving when his time to atone arrived.  Rather, he would like to think as much…..

Now, life was dealing the former shark of Manhattan a new hand. 

One he wouldn’t have anticipated at any point in his once robust career. 

_“Mr. Barba, we would like to extend this opportunity to be an Assistant District Attorney for the United States District of South Carolina.”_

 At first, he took it as some sick joke; some former courtroom foe, friend or family member of one of the many suspects now in Riker’s, Attica, or Sing Sing compliments of Barba, but no, it hadn’t been.  A few well-placed phone calls to friends in the US Courts in New York revealed there had been a search for a new ADA based in Charleston and apparently, the Federal government didn’t discriminate when it came to being on trial for murder and being a former Manhattan ADA on top of that. Barba couldn’t but help to scratch his head at this sudden change in fortune.  Sure, he was skilled in the art of litigation and had a few notable notches on the gavel so to speak, but he held a grain of skepticism even as he started this new chapter of his professional and personal life.  His mother had been both elated and heavy hearted at this news, openly weeping as he spent his final day at her apartment. 

_“Rafi, you know I am so proud of you.  Your abuelita would also be so proud of you.”_

Lucia’s bittersweet tears caused his own to spring from the corners of his eyes.  He rarely cried, Hell, he didn’t shed a single tear at his father’s funeral though that bastard wasn’t worthy of the memorial service held for his worthless abusive corpse. 

_“I’ll come back and visit, Mami and you can call me anytime.”_

Barba took a deep breath, attempting to hold back the emotional spring welling deep within his chest.  He hadn’t left New York since he left for Harvard and now the same sensations of uncertainty and excitement experienced in his youth found themselves resurging in his being. 

He had read up on Charleston, noting it was nicknamed the Holy City for the density of houses or worship within its confines.  At least if he needed to make any confessions a Catholic Church wouldn’t be too far away. He could ditch the heavy coats, scarves, gloves, or other attire that went with living in New York City winters, which wasn’t a bad thing. Snow was novel in the South, with only the mountains to the west seeing any feathery down of winter, though Charleston did have that snow event which New Yorkers, including him, would’ve mocked and laughed at those poor bastards melting down over 5 inches of snow.  That was Monday to them.  Down here, he could go lighter in apparel though summers were left to be desired but not without saying Manhattan had been cursed with its share of brutal summers.  Another drastic difference was the lack of skyscrapers in Charleston.   The trees of steel and concrete were absent in the skyline, yielding to a vast gulf of blue.  That would take time to adjust to after a lifetime of residing in the shadows of the Manhattan jungle. 

Without warning, a red shining in his rearview snapped Barba back from his musings as he spied the state trooper with lights flashing and siren screaming. 

“Shit,” he muttered and eased onto the shoulder and sighed irritably.  Knowing the drill, the engine went silent and hands came to rest on the top of the steering wheel.  All Barba could do was watch as the not so imposing form of the trooper exit her patrol car and make her approach.  This was going to be interesting.  Profiling was not a novel concept and he was no exception being Cuban-American.  Down here in the South, his name bore no value.  He witnessed the vile and sometimes bloody and violent consequences of profiling and silently hoped this cop wasn’t one of those who liked to ask about citizenship status.

“Afternoon,” the trooper greeted evenly as Barba looked up and over. She was taller than most women with blonde hair and an accent that sounded Minnesotan or Wisconsan or perhaps Canadian. A pair of “cop shades” rested comfortably on her nose, shielding her eyes from the looming Southern sun.  “I clocked you going 80 back there.  The speed limit is 70.” 

“I am sorry about that.” He found himself inhaling deeply and slowly, attempting to maintain a balanced tone.

“I’ll need your license, registration, and insurance, please.”

Barba leaned over his seat, slowly and methodically, aware of certain incidents involving cops and people of color.  Keeping his hands visible, he fished the documents out and presented them to the waiting officer.  She accepted the offering and went to run his information. 

Well, starting off with a bang, rather a ticket. 

He tapped his fingers on the top of the wheel as the trooper continued running his information.  His plates were out of state; the second strike.  The third?  He was driving a 2016 BMW.  Cops loved those out of towners driving expensive vehicles; well, Carisi would claim that but then, Carisi loved exaggerating things from time to time.

The slam of a door alerted him she was done.  Barba awaited the verdict as she appeared at his window.

“Alright, Mr. Barba, I’m going to let you go with a warning this time; but, please do mind the signs as next time, you may not be so fortunate.” Hanscum returned his documents with a small shake of the head.

“Thank you, Officer Hanscum,” he smiled with relief.  Barba expected a ticket but didn’t second guess his good fortune.

“Alright, well you have a nice day.” She added a genuine smile before turning to return to her own car. 

Barba decided to use cruise control the rest of the way.  His thoughts drifting towards the unknown, wondering what else awaited him in the Holy City.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Cole shook his head. 

He knew Alex was wound up tighter than a Timex. She ALWAYS got that way when they had to serve a Federal warrant.   But the former Marine understood her deep-seated apprehensions and anxieties when the District Attorney or FBI came calling, asking they go in hot, whether it was to bust some piece of shit trafficker or assist in conducting a raid or liquidating property or assets.  That was the job of a Marshal.  The public couldn’t comprehend the depths of what they did; most of which was beyond the stereotypical images of the Wild West and marshals going into Dodge City or Tombstone and busting up drunken cowboys on a Saturday night.  Their duties had evolved and expanded as the times and social/political climate did.  Hell, just last year he had been part of a detail to protect a high-profile visiting dignitary from some European nation the average American couldn’t find on a map let alone properly pronounce. 

“Cole,” Lisa popped in, scurrying towards her desk.  “Where’s Alex?”

“Wyatt Earp is in debriefing.  You’re good.”  He watched the fear ebb like an ocean wave at the mention of their superior cooped up with her superior.  “Where’s Deano?”

“Bathroom. After the run in West Ashley, he doesn’t want an encore.”

Cole snickered at his team member’s misfortune.  A few months ago, they had conducted an arrest in the affluent West Ashley neighborhood, resulting in aforementioned Deputy Marshal experiencing what Lisa coined, “A bladder mishap.”  Cole thought it was funny as Hell seeing how Dean could be a bit of an ass on occasion and being witness to such a humbling moment was schadenfreude.

“Phew!” The subject of their gossip arrived. “I need to start pacing myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Lisa waved his fear away, “The fun hasn’t started yet.”

At that second Alex walked briskly into the room.  Standing at 5’5”, U.S. Marshal Alexandra “Alex” Koch was not what most would peg as a Federal law enforcement officer.  Her shoulder length chocolate hair was restrained in a neatly coiled bun at the base of her head, skin that was lightly kissed by sun.  Her body was concealed by the tactical attire which donned her moderately built frame.  Shades rested neatly on the crown of her head, tactical style of course.  Holstered to her right thigh was her faithful Glock .40 S&W as its twin was secured tight to her hip. Normally it was one but with it being a high-risk warrant, both were called for duty. 

“Are you ladies done gossiping?  Because we have a scumbag to bust.”

The Deputies gathered around as Alex laid out the schematics of their target’s property. 

“We’re being asked to deliver a warrant on one Alistair Heyerdahl.  I’m sure you remember the raid our friends at the FBI did a few years back on the warehouse at Charleston Harbor?  That was him.  This guy is suspected in trafficking drugs, counterfeit goods, money laundering, and confirmed to have direct involvement in human trafficking.  Surveillance confirms his ties to international gangs and possibly international organized crime. This guy is a piece of shit.  He’s been able to elude us every single time.”

Jaws and fists clenched at the mention of human trafficking. Alex waved her hand over the schematics and started pointing to access sites and locations, one hand clutched fiercely to the desk’s edge as she spoke; her body leaned across the map, partially eclipsing the diagram.

“So, the FBI will be with us on this providing backup.  They don’t want this shitbag to get away either.  Now, that said, we will go through the main entrance with agents covering all exits.  I want all of you wearing your vests, carrying both weapons.” She paused to peer directly at Dean with a raised eyebrow. Deep rings of cerulean lightened with humor.  “You did use the bathroom, right, Winchester?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alex’s mouth cracked a side smile as Cole and Lisa struggled to quell giggles, taking internal joy in their comrade’s squirming.

“Alright,” she exhaled, removing herself from the edge of the desk with seriousness dominating in her tone.  “We’re meeting with Morris and Valente before proceeding.  Henricksen will be back listening and monitoring the situation.  Any questions?”

Everyone gave a short shake of their heads, eager to take another waste of space off the streets, especially one that operated in their backyard. 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

No one spoke on the ride over.

Alex drove, mind drifting to Kevin, who was now in his first semester at Duke.  While not of her flesh, she raised him without bias toward that fact, loving him as if he had been bore of her body.  She had spent 18 years fighting to shield him from the dangers which lurked in both dark and lightened corners; dangers that donned suits and ties, working 9-5 jobs while flashing perfect rows of pearl and a charismatic persona or even familiar uniforms of law enforcement, fire, or EMS which they had crossed paths with in past assignments. 

Lisa thought of Ben who was at school, enjoying his first year in high school.  He had grown up so damn fast!  In her mind, he was still that sweet curious toddler exploring more of his expanding universe determined to master it all.  Now, he was noticing girls and girls were starting to see her baby boy in a rather novel way.  As if she didn’t have enough to be worried about.

Cole thought of his son, Matt.  He knew his son and wife, Melinda, worried about him each time they had to execute a high-risk arrest.  They weren’t ignorant to what happened to Deputy Marshals when shit would go south in an instant; a misstep by a Marshal or the suspect gets a one up on and suddenly a  multiple ways with various colors and shades, but it wouldn’t do one bit to ease any tensions they had. 

Dean simply gazed at the passing landscapes, thankful Sam and Jess were miles away from this.

Valente and Morris caught sight of the approaching vehicles.  This wasn’t their first rodeo and sure as Hell wasn’t going to be the last.  When they worked with the Marshals, it was a well-oiled machine, each part moving independently but in tune with one another, creating a perfect rhythm as they executed arrest warrants and raids. 

“Here comes the Earp Gang,” Morris made this comment with endearment as several agents had made this exact observation but with similar sentiments.  His partner, Valente nodded and hummed in agreement.  The “Earp Gang” as the team had been known to be called, rolled out of the SUV, all with shades drawn tight across their noses.

“Valente, Morris,” Cole greeted as the others grabbed the gear.  “So, what do we know?”

“Right now, we haven’t seen any movement in or out of the building.  Agents have been sitting on the site for the last 48 hours and nothing.”

“He might be locked down inside,” Dean finished donning his vest.  “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had some ass clown do it.”

“Yeah, but this ass clown isn’t some mere drug dealer or white-collar con job.” Lisa tightened her hair tie, fixing her long dark locks into a tight bun.

“No, he’s worse,” Alex completed as she checked her weapons. 

Emotions raced through everyone’s veins as positions were secured.  Valente and Morris took position with the Marshals, Dean and Cole carrying “Fat Man” the battering ram which destroyed many doors over the years.  Alex and Lisa stood with weapons drawn, each feeling their trigger fingers grow itchier with each second that passed.  It felt like hours instead of seconds. 

Morris used his fingers to count down from three to one, Dean and Cole swinging the ram, denting the solid steel door, dispatching hit after hit until the barrier groaned then surrendered, breaking off the hinges and vanishing into the dark.  The stench which greeted was overwhelming but the invisible curtain of shit, urine, and other unidentifiable odors didn’t deter them team as they rushed in. 

“FBI and US Marshals!!!  WE HAVE A WARRANT!!” Valente hollered with every octave his voice could muster.  Alex and Lisa scanned the inky blackness with their flashlights, locating several switches on opposing walls. 

“Fuck, what the Hell is that smell?” Dean felt his eyes stinging.  Cole had moved ahead, weapon trained to the dark.  A sudden scratching sound caught his attention, steering the deputy towards a corner.

“US Marshals!  Come out with your hands up!” Morris caught up with him, covering the shorter man.  He rounded a few crates, moving heel to toe, surprisingly quiet in the boots he chose.  It was always boots on these assignments.  Dress shoes were like taking a knife to a gunfight. 

Morris spotted a figure shifting around, huddled tightly to the corner.  The poor lighting offered squat as Cole crept up, gun in hand as he gripped the soiled tattered quilt then in a fluid snap of the wrist, exposed the occupant beneath. 

“Alistair Heyerdahl, where is he!?!?”

The woman was petrified, clad in ripped jeans that were splattered with stains that Cole didn’t want to know what they were.  Her shirt was two sizes too big, one side hanging off her shoulder, cleaner, if one wanted to use the word to describe such.  Her arms, legs, and face filthy, as if she hadn’t bathed in weeks while a ratted mess that if brushed and washed, would be a beautiful shade of brown.  Bruised marred her arms and Morris suspected additional injuries were concealed by the filth.

“Cole!” Morris reappeared. “This woman is in shock.  We need to get her outta here.”

“How do you know she isn’t faking it?”

“I’ve been on a few trafficking busts and I know this look and behavior. This is a woman who has been through Hell.  Her pimp has more than likely beaten, tortured, and threatened her. Keeping quiet is how she’s still alive.”

Cole kept his weapon out, but lowered it as Morris knelt down, slowly, and extended his hand.

“Hey, we’re here to help,” his voice was quiet and gentle.  “I’m an FBI agent, and he’s a deputy marshal.  We’re the good guys. Let’s get you outta here okay?”

The woman didn’t move, shaking violently.  Morris wasn’t about to give up.  “My name is Agent Morris and this is Cole.  What’s your name?”

The woman eyed Agent Morris warily but seeing him put the gun away and Cole softening his stance, cracked the terrified persona. Something told her she could trust these men.  She was careful in her movements, turning to consider the offered hand.  Several tension filled moments passed before she swallowed hard, realizing the one who kept her here was gone. 

“Whoever did this to you isn’t coming back.”  Cole shook his head.  “We won’t let them.”

“Come on,” Morris coaxed her again.  The woman timidly put out her hand, clutching his in hers.  Morris smiled warmly and nodded.   “I’ll find something to cover her with and let the others know we found her.” 

He rose and turned, radioing for an ambulance.  Somewhere in the distance he could hear Alex and Lisa’s voices.

_“What in the HELL happened here?!”_

_“Call Henricksen.”_

 

 

 

 


	2. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first meeting.......How does it go?

Barba took in his new surroundings.  His office was about twice the size of his old office in Manhattan; furnished with what appeared to be an oak table, four chairs, a leather sofa with matching coffee table, bookcase with Federal and South Carolina law books, and thankfully, a coffee maker with a Keurig perched beside it.  He was thankful there was a bathroom off to the right; ideal for those long nights or brief interludes between meetings he was certain would fill his days when he wasn’t in court.  He had not met anyone else as he arrived early to get somewhat settled before the onslaught of meet and greets.  It felt as if he was back to his first day as ADA in Brooklyn: Fresh faced with anxiety and uncertainty gnawing.  He was acclimated to the sprint like pace of the New York judicial system which was a revolving door of repeat offenders and the same circus of public defenders and high-profile ego driven defense attorneys like Buchanan.  But in Charleston, he was the new kid.  He had zero inclination of the justice system in the South but had some grasp of the Federal system.  He wasn’t sure what to expect.

A sharp rap on the door ripped him from his musings.  Barba peered up to spy a tall dark-skinned man in a well pressed suit and navy tie was poking his head in. 

“You must be the new prosecutor.  I’m Special Agent Victor Henricksen, Charleston bureau,” Henricksen extended a massive hand to which Barba readily accepted.  Victor observed the sharp attire: White button up shirt, tie mingled with violet, black, and grey, a vest that hugged his torso, and a dark shade of grey clad his lower half.  The matching jacket was slung casually over the chair behind the desk.  Already settling in.

“Rafael Barba,” he nodded.  “Yeah I just got here a few days ago.”  Barba noted the agent was at least six foot three with a powerful frame to match.  “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, that would be great! Ah, well, then you probably heard about the shit storm that is coming your way, rather, our way,” Henricksen frowned.

“The Heyerdahl raid done with the U.S. Marshals.  Yeah, I was reading up on it between unpacking.  Sounds like he’s been public enemy number one for some time.”

“You have no idea,” Henricksen shook his head.  “The Marshals served the warrant with two of my agents going in and the term bloodbath did not begin scratch the surface.”  He passed a manila folder over to Rafael who took a deep breath before opening the offering.  Upon first glance, his eyes widened, and Victor swore his skin turned pale.  

“My god,” he muttered.  “What the Hell happened in that warehouse?” He dared to continue flipping through the stack, growing sicker with each image presented. 

“That’s not even the worst of it. Our techs and agents are still processing the site, but we suspect the children and teenagers were shot to keep them from talking.  The shots were done execution style, perhaps as a final insult to the victims. Buckets were kept by those rags they slept on and their legs were shackled.”

“Were there any survivors?”

“One, a woman was found hidden behind some crates.  Morris and Deputy Marshal Trenton found her, got her out and she’s receiving medical care for the multiple injuries in addition to the dehydration, emaciation, and there’s evidence she was pregnant.  We have her under 24-hour protection.”

“Is there anything else we know?”

“We’re running her photo through every database possible, hoping somewhere, someone reported her missing.”

Barba took a long drink of his coffee, the tone of the day set for him. 

“You can get more insight from Marshal Koch and Deputy Marshals Braden and Winchester as they were the first to discover the bloodbath.  We had to make sure Marshal Koch didn’t kill Heyerdahl.”

“Wait, he almost killed our prime suspect?!”

“She, and yes, Alex has an extreme dislike for traffickers.  She calls them lower than the shit on the bottom of her boots.  Several years ago, he gave the team she was on the slip outside of Paris.  That only fueled her determination to bring him in.”

“And she’s a United States Marshal?” Rafael raised an eyebrow at this.  Sure, law enforcement officers, regardless of level, expressed stages of anger from the pressures and failures they experienced, but….

“Look, before you say anything, Alex is one helluva Marshal.  Her team is one of the best, they’ve done a lot of shit missions here and abroad.  They call her team the Earp Gang with good reason.  Remember reading about that cop who killed his wife, dad, mom, and two kids before taking off and locking down out in rural Tennessee?  Her team brought his ass down. Two of her members are on the special tactical team.”

“I’m not doubting the ability of Marshal Koch or any of her team, but she does realize I need suspects alive to prosecute.”

“Okay, look, Mr. Barba –“

“Rafael, please.”

“Look, Rafael, Alex…….” Victor paused to formulate his words.  “Alex has been through a lot and still finds herself struggling with some things.  And I’ll leave it at that.”

“Okay,” Rafael arched an eyebrow but nodded regardless.

“But you’ll meet her later today along with the rest of the team.” His tone lightened upon changing the subject.  “But I’ll leave you to getting situated and welcome to Charleston.”

“Thanks, Agent Henricksen.”

“Please, feel free to call me Victor.  We’ll see you later today over at our office.”

Lovely, a marshal with the temperament of Vesuvius.  Sounded like Liv’s old partners, Elliot Stabler and Nick Amaro.  Barba could only hope that wasn’t the case.  Liv had recalled incidents where Stabler had used excessive force against suspects in interrogation or while in pursuit; as in the case where he nearly drowned a pedophile in the harbor while searching for a kidnapped boy who luckily, ADA Novak had found in a cooler on the dock in time.  Barba had been privy to some of Amaro’s outbursts during his tenure in Manhattan. But, in defense of Amaro, he was slightly tamer than Stabler.

Refilling his mug, Barba resumed reviewing the information Henricksen left him. 

* * *

 

Alex rounded the corner by the old Exchange and Provost Dungeon, proceeding west down Broad Street, one of the main roads that created the lattice of roadways across the peninsula.  Her normal route brought her up Bay Street, carrying her past the vibrant shades of pastels that announced one was on Rainbow Row, a flush alignment of townhomes that was once considered a slum after the Civil War through the 20s. But, thanks to the efforts of Susan Pringle Frost, those once dilapidated dwellings experienced a renaissance, making it a desirable place to live. When visitors wondered aloud about the stark coloring, Alex loved to tease it was so tourists could find their way back to the right Air BnB after a long day of drinking and boating.  Of course, it wasn’t true.  The colors were practical, to reflect the tropical heat from the buildings.

Her stride continued unabated as she crossed King Street and by the Edward Rutledge House.  She needed this distraction, to be amongst the ghosts of the Old City, and away from the horrors which slammed her senses in one afternoon.  Her breathing quickened, the humidity growing thicker the closer she drew towards the Coast Guard Station.  Her headache was receding, thanks to the 800 milligrams of Ibuprofen she popped before dragging her hungover ass out the door at 6 AM.  No sooner had she shut the door behind her, the rum was retrieved from the cabinet along with a small can of Coke.  Valente had not come home yet, overseeing the documentation and chain of custody for the rooms of evidence discovered.  Once Heyerdahl had been locked up in holding, under 24-hour watch of course, she bade the team goodnight, knowing they would process what they saw in their own ways. 

She wanted to put a bullet in the fucker’s brain but rather found herself being pried off the son of a bitch by Dean and Cole after slamming him to the ground, cuffing him, then proceeding to peel his upper torso off the searing pavement before locking her arms into a sleeper hold and squeezing with the tenacity of a constrictor.  Damn demons got the better of her again.  Well, if Heyerdahl cries brutality, let him.  There were no marks and he was conscious the whole time. 

_Alex, what the HELL just happened?!_

Cole had hissed angrily in her ear as Dean assisted Valente and Morris with getting Heyerdahl into transport.  Her stare cold, hard, and bore straight into his as the agents secured their query.  Her body remained tense even as the van vanished behind the buildings.

_Son of a bitch got off easy._

Dean and Cole drove as they tailed the escort to the holding facility.  Alex remained silent, keeping her shaded eyes straight ahead.  She was angered over her loss of control; again.  Fucking demons.  Her right hand curled into a vise like grip around the door handle, determined to keep control until she could be home.  Lisa had recommended some deep breathing tactics once, when she was calmer.  The marshal recalled what she taught and focused on calming her agitations.  If this kept up, she would be benched and forced to see a shrink.  Yeah, the first time was enough for her.  Talking about her feelings and what triggered her reactions in certain circumstances, reliving that night……

Huffing, Alex pushed on, rounding the corner onto Murray Boulevard, past the Coast Guard station, waving at the few uniforms on duty.  The final stretch of her run was always along the south side of the Battery.  The promenade and favorite of locals once housed a defensive artillery position during the Civil War, now served to display rich palmetto trees and thick oaks that adorned the antebellum manors, gilded distractions to the dark ugly history of slavery, war, murder, piracy, and genocide of the Cusabo and other nations of South Carolina. 

More locals were out, lazily strolling along the sea wall, taking in the morning views before the tourists and commuters invaded the city for another day.  Some of the locals were her neighbors, seizing this time for themselves, the same as she did.  Valente wasn’t a fan of running in the South Carolina humidity and liked to bitch about it; daily.  Well, he chose to live here, so suffer he would.  Alex liked to think it was spending part of her life in Louisiana that made her a bit more resilient.   

Now, it was time to face the team.

* * *

 

Lisa was the first in as Ben was old enough to get himself up and ready for school.  He was learning to drive, which was an adventure in its own.  Cole and Dean would be in before too long, still reeling from what they saw several days ago.  This ranked high on their “What The Fuck” list, no, it was the top.  No one had spoken after Alex almost sent Heyerdahl into the Land of Nod, but then again, concern didn’t have to be conveyed with spoken word. 

“Morning,” Dean had the largest coffee he could get with newspaper tucked under his arm.  “Ready to meet the new Matlock?”

“Sure,” Lisa sighed.  “Let’s see how long this one lasts.”

“What? You think Old Man Turner will scare this one off too? Come on!  Underneath that grumpy façade is a great big teddy bear.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Dean.”

Dean just sipped his coffee, hiding his grin.  Judge Rufus Turner, judge and all around grumpy old man. 

Alex and Cole entered together, holding a light conversation; Cole’s way of keeping her grounded.

“Boss,” Dean spoke up, “Know anything about the new kid?”

“The new Federal attorney?  Other than he’s from New York City, no.”

“Well I hear he was acquitted for murder,” Cole fueled Dean’s curiosity.  “Some case up in NYC where a baby with a genetic disease was taken off the ventilator.  Sounded like the little guy had no hope.  I did some reading on the case last night.”

“Really?” Dean’s eyes went wide.  “Holy shit.”

“Why don’t you ask me about it?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The subject of their conversation had unexpectedly arrived.  

“You must be the-“

“New Matlock?” Barba snickered.  “I was thinking more of Perry Mason, myself.”

Dean took a drink of his coffee while Lisa and Cole merely trained their gazes to miscellaneous files on their desks. 

“Please excuse our teammate, Dean has a way with sticking his foot in his mouth,” Lisa rose and offered her hand, “Deputy Marshal Lisa Braden.”

“Rafael Barba,” her grip was firm but welcoming.  “The new Matlock.”

Cole went next then Dean, who offered a haphazard apology.  “I’ve been called much worse, Deputy Marshal.”

“Alex is in her office, Mr. Barba,” Cole pointed the way. 

“Thank you, I’ll show myself in,” Barba strolled towards the open door leaving the trio to take in the sight of the newest edition. 

* * *

 

Alex took another drink of her coffee, letting the hints of whiskey tingle her tongue.  It wasn’t a lot, but enough to flavor the medium roast brew.  The photos were strewn about, a chronological timeline captured to highlight the worst of humanity.  Some of the kids were about 7, some were older, perhaps mid-teens, and a few that may have been in their 20s.  Traffickers didn’t care about age, all that mattered was the influx of cash and goods.  These kids and young adults were commodities, property to be traded and sold like livestock at an auction.  No, livestock were treated better than this. 

Barba rapped on the door knocking Alex back to the present.  Her eyes lifted then came to rest upon her visitor: A man of about 5’6”, sharply dressed in a black three piece that cut his figure nicely, with a red/yellow/blue striped tie, red silk square carefully shaped in the left breast pocket.  Who was this guy hoping to impress?

“Marshal Alexandra Koch? I’m Rafael Barba, the new-“

“Matlock; so I heard.” She rose and rounded her desk, extending her hand in a gesture of welcome.  Rafael clutched her smaller hand in his, catching the strength in her grip.  Her figure was hidden by a white V neck shirt that was covered by a black blazer.  Denim clad her legs with a pair of fashionable boots as to top it off.  He spied a pendant dangling from her neck, some kind of coin or metal in a ring of silver.  Her eyes a shade of cyan, cutting though him as they held one another’s gaze.   Her hair was fastened in a ponytail, exposing a tight jaw and smooth neck.  A pair of wire rim glasses were perched on her nose, giving her a subtle academic impression.

Alex couldn’t but help to look into the emerald rings, silently observing the attempt to decipher what her eyes were holding. 

_Nice try, Matlock._  

“Sorry,” she continued, “Dean has a way with his words on occasion.”

“Apology accepted,” Barba nodded. 

“I’m sure whatever Henricksen or anyone else has told you about me is more than likely true; the good, the bad, and the very ugly.  I won’t lie to you; I’m not known for being nice around here.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Barba snorted.

“And things around here are not what you’re used to back in New York.  I’m sure you’ve seen the lowest of humanity, but that’s the surface you guys scratched.  You have seen our latest collar, Alistair Heyerdahl?”

“You mean the exemplary human being you got rough with?”

Alex felt her anger slowly rising as the last syllable departed his lips.  Her jaw clenched and she knew the tendons in her neck were starting to protrude.  She stepped in closer, until she was nearly nose to nose with the man.  Barba stood there, undeterred as Alex narrowed her eyes to dual piercing slits of ice.  He had balls; she’ll give him that.

“I wasn’t getting rough with him, Counselor; not even close.  I don’t abuse suspects.”  Barba caught a faint hint of an accent underlaying her cold anger.  What was it?  Southern?  No.  No, it wasn’t Southern.  Maybe it was French or Cajun.  It was soft but pleasing and he found himself hoping to hear more of this foreign tone.

* * *

 

Dean walked by the office, halting his stride when he caught sight of the pair. 

Both stood there, staring one another down.  Tension flooded the space between them. 

“Mexican stand-off in the Boss’s office,” Dean whispered as he hurried back to his desk.

“Wonder what he said,” Cole sighed. 

“Something stupid,” Lisa quipped, “As men always do.”

The guys shot their heads up as Lisa shrugged.  “What?  You do.” 

* * *

 

“Now that we have cleared that up, if you do not have anything else to discuss, I will see you at the meeting with FBI.”  She extended her hand once again, showing Barba she wasn’t about to bite his head off.

“No, I don’t. Thank you, Marshal.”

He turned but didn’t scurry out.  No, he wasn’t about to let her get under his skin. 

* * *

 

“Hey, Matlock!” Barba groaned inwardly at the nickname. He stopped and watched Dean racing down the steps.  “Hey, I noticed you and the boss were trading dirty diaper looks in there.  Look, she’s not bad; once you get to know her.”

“Interesting, because Henricksen told me the same thing.” 

“Yeah, well, he’s worked with Alex since she became a Marshal.  He’s seen her in all states.”

“Oh?  And which of her personalities will appear next?”

Dean scrubbed his face, cursing the humidity.  Snarky, great.

“Look, Matlock, this case has been all we’ve worked on aside from catching the local drug lord or gun packing white supremacist.  I can’t tell you how many times we have come in to see her asleep at her desk, still wearing the same clothes from the previous day; the number of doors we knocked, the people that were paraded through here, claiming they knew something about Heyerdahl or one of his lackeys, and the dead ends.  I’m sure Henricksen filled you in about Paris.”

“Yeah, he got away from them.”  Rafael could relate.  He knew the frustrations and anger of a suspect making the slip on him.  Ploys ranging from taking a private jet to France to escape charges of raping a child to dressing in drag to flee to Canada to evade murder charges and the sheer stupidity in between all no stranger to him. 

“Explains the hostility about roughing a suspect up.”

“You did say something stupid,” Dean sighed.  Lisa was right. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you readers and lurkers. The support in all forms is appreciated. 
> 
> And Alex.....honey, you haven't anyone like Rafael Barba. Your life has officially changed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little tension, a little drinking, a littler anger, a little Barba getting a certain Marshal to cool her heels, a little crack in Alex's wall emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Creole used is Haitian Creole which is the most widely spoken Creole tongue. I tried to find a translator for Louisiana Creole but no dice.

Henricksen spotted the notification on his phone.  It was from Dean.

_Matlock pushed her button._

Sighing, he replaced the phone on the table, anticipating an eventful meeting.  He was sure Valente had already received an earful from her about this morning’s events.  Alex is going to be wound up tighter than a damn Timex.  Well, it wouldn’t be his first rodeo and certainly won’t be the last.  Valente and Morris can run interference if necessary, but he suspected Barba was a smart man and would not endanger today’s meeting of the minds, though he had something of a mouth.  He had not done any homework on their latest legal incarnation as they had been up to their chests in this Heyerdahl business.  More information and evidence had been collected for people’s evidence over the last few days, each a chapter contributing to the sadistic tale of trafficking, enslavement, and death.  Stephen King couldn’t have dreamt of something this dark. It was shit like that which caused him to wonder about humanity sometimes. 

“Boss,” Morris greeted him as he arrived with Valente right behind him.  Both had coffee clutched in their grips as the last 48 hours had been hit and miss for sleep.  Valente had heard Alex leave the house a few times overnight, probably to run or walk around the Battery; or she had been in the basement taking her frustrations and anger out on the punching bag.  At least she wasn’t trying to punch people or surfaces that were not so flesh friendly then.  He was relieved he had made the right decision to move in after _that_ night. 

“The techs are completing another sweep, but the evidence collection is winding down.  This trial is going to be one big shit show.  I heard Heyerdahl retained our favorite defense attorney to the incarcerated.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Henricksen sighed. Have big cases, Zachariah Adler would travel.  He was a showman, notorious for putting on a spectacle if it gained points with a jury.  If it wasn’t him, it was his partner in crime, Josie “Abbadon” Sands, or Marv Whitelighter, whom Valente called “Booger” behind his back, that took up “The Great Cause.”  All three worked like sharks, smell blood in the water, and BOOM.  They loved seizing the opportunity to take on the big bad Feds, hoping to catch them with their pants around their ankles and making asses of Federal prosecutors.  Maybe Barba’s arrival would turn the tables on the Unholy Trio.  They were a bane to everyone in Charleston; unless they were on your payroll. 

“Knock, knock,” Cole announced his arrival.  Dean and Lisa were behind, ceasing their conversation, rather, griping about the heat and humidity. 

“Where’s Wyatt?” Valente raised an eyebrow.

“Right here,” Alex dragged her ass in, shades resting on her head, exposing the bleary expression that dampened her features. It wasn’t uncommon to see her in this state; especially in their current situation.  She selected the seat beside Cole, leaving the one to her left vacant.  Lovely.

“Good afternoon,” Barba strolled in with briefcase in tow.  Alex internally cringed as he claimed the final seat.  As she sat there, Alex fought the urge to take in a deep breath, to let the scent of his expensive cologne saturate her olfactory system as they remained seated within feet of one another.  Her eyes kept forward and trained on Henricksen who glanced up and fought back a smirk. 

_Laugh it up, Victor; laugh it up!_

Alex snapped her stare to Valente, who was conveniently face down in the notepad before him as was Morris. 

“Looks like everyone is here, so let’s get started,” Henricksen broke the silence and underlying tension.  “Valente and Morris, please update the Marshals and Mr. Barba about what was found in the warehouse.”

Morris slid a small stack to Barba as Valente filled him in. “We searched and collected evidence from the main storage area in addition to 10 smaller rooms distributed through three levels with the bodies of 15 juveniles and young adults.” He paused before continuing.  “There were 6 bodies of children that are estimated to be 12 or younger in age.  They were in various stages of starvation and abuse at the time of death.”

Alex had seen the photos as had the rest of the team.  Skin disfigured with cigarette burns and knife cuts from sadistic Johns, teeth broken, and bones healed with evidence of consistent torture and abuse; the result of being passed around like a bottle or cigarette between sick fucks seeking nothing more than to appease their needs. 

“We have requested assistance from our people to work with the ME in completing the autopsies.  The main storage area we entered first was where the victims were held in between being taken to parties, private residences, hotel rooms, or whatever scuzzy shit hole was used.  There’s also evidence of drugs being pumped into these kids to keep them upright when working.  Preliminary screening of what we found identified heroin, speed, meth, and opioids.  We’re waiting for DNA recovered from the blood and saliva and they found semen and vaginal fluids on the bedding.”

Barba caught a faint movement from the corner of his eye.  Alex’s jaw clenched and body became rigid as Valente continued. 

He dared to crane his head right, taking in a better glimpse of the anger simmering beneath the surface.  Her attention continued to be on the agents, no indication of acknowledgement to his gaze.

Alex knew he was watching her. 

She took a drink of coffee, the weight of his emerald stare never wavering.  Does he like staring?  Maybe she should give him a reason to stare. 

“So, when does the trial start?” Lisa quipped from across the table. 

“Judge Turner will set a date tomorrow,” Barba intervened, retreating his stare.  Dean smirked at the name which caught Barba’s attention.

“Am I missing something?”  Barba arched an eyebrow. 

“Judge Turner is not known for his subtlety,” Alex’s eyes met his.  Barba couldn’t but help to look deep and long into hers though unintentionally.

_Damn, she has stunning eyes._

He could easily become lost in those Caribbean hues.  Growing up in the South Bronx, blue eyes weren’t commonplace.  Of all the men and women with blue eyes he could recall crossing paths with, hers blew them all away. 

“He doesn’t tolerate bullshit in his courtroom,” Cole added.  “And he is no fan of Sands, Adler, or Whitelighter either.  Hell, he lets his contempt be known every time they show their faces in his court.”

“Sounds like most of the judges I knew back in New York,” Barba chuckled. 

“Then you should feel right at home then,” Alex clapped him on the back with a sarcastic smirk.

“Uptight judges and sarcastic law enforcement, you’re right, Marshal, I do feel at home.”

* * *

 

The Jeep rolled up in front of Guidry’s, stopping in front of the doors.  Alex needed a drink in the worst way after today’s events.  Between reliving the horror show that played out in the warehouse to Barba’s presence, whiskey would be welcome.  Valente had cornered her after the meeting.

_“Lex, you feeling alright?”_

_“If you mean am I hungover?  No, that was this morning and was cured with 5 miles.”_

_“I saw how you looked at Barba.”_

_“What the Hell are you talking about?”_

_“Jesus, you’re dense.  I’ve known you for a very long time now.  I know what I saw.  You may not want to admit it, but you were looking at him and I saw something that wasn’t cold or angry.”_

_“You’re delusional, V.”_

Valente was reading too much into what he thought he saw.  Rafael Barba was a pain in her ass.  The way he walked into that meeting with an air of superiority; or was it arrogance?  Either way, he was a long way from New York City and all its gilded bullshit.  Subconsciously, she reached down, toying with the copper pendant before opening the door and being greeted with the sweet relief of air conditioning.

Benjamin “Benny” Lafitte shot his head up from where to stood behind the bar.  The familiar outline in the doorway evoked a smile across his weathered face.

“Alex!  My cheri how are you?” 

“Uncle Benny,” Alex embraced him in a tight hug, feeling him lift her smaller frame off the worn floorboards. “Sa fe lontan.”

“Wi, li gen.” He gave her a playful smack on the arm.  

“Mwen regrete, men... "

“You have a job to do.  Don’t worry about your Uncle Benny,” he said with a wink.  “I saw what happened with that wou kaka.  It’s been everywhere in the news.”

“Tomorrow’s the arraignment,” Alex pulled up a stool.  “The media will be all over like flies on shit.  Let’s hope the prosecutor does his damn job.” A dash of bitterness laced her tone.  “Mr. Big and Bad from New York City.  Ooooh……Call me unimpressed.”

“Oh, cheri,” Benny placed a whiskey and Coke in front of her; more Coke than whiskey.  “It sounds like this attorney is al anba po ou.”

“The first thing he does is say I roughed up a perp; to my face.  He had some balls to say that.”

Alex took a long hard drink.  The whiskey was Johnny and Coke was cold and refreshing.  It had been Gadreel’s favorite.  Each time they were here, he would order it without hesitation.

 “Well, cheri, you do have a tendency to forget your own strength and forget to rein in your emotions.” He chose his words wisely.  “I worry about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” why did he, Valente, and the others have to be so fucking concerned about her?  She’d been holding her own for almost 7 years now. 

“Sorry, can’t do that.  You’re my niece and you know we look out for one another in this fanmi; more so now than ever.”

“How’s Aunt Andrea?”  Alex knew where the conversation was heading and switched subjects.

“Cheri, she is determined to stay in Greece until we are no longer the ‘Front Porch of Hell’; her words.”

Alex laughed at his woe.  Andrea was a stubborn lady, a Greek heiress who fell for a Creole from Louisiana during a visit over Mardi Gras and the rest was history.  Currently, she was visiting her parents and sister in Greece for the summer and into the fall.  They didn’t have any children, but Andrea loved Alex like she was her own as she had raised her along with Benny after her parents had perished in a fiery car wreck when she was 12. 

“I can’t blame her,” she set the empty tumbler down.  “And when you refill, don’t skimp on the Johnny.”

Benny took the glass and fixed her another round.  He wondered if this would be a good time to tell her about the dream he had been having for the last few nights; the vision of a dark-haired man with eyes like emeralds.  Her matche.  He didn’t have to be told so to know so.

It was an old family story, a fable as Alex had scoffed.  The men and women of their family had dreams of those who were considered the matche for another.  His father had dreamt of Andrea being the matche for Benny and his mother had dreamt of Alex’s father for Alex’s mother, Benny’s sister.  And now, he was dreaming of Alex’s matche.  But, how would she react?  It had been 7 years since that night.  The once joyous outgoing Alex had died that after those events as she put it.  She was never the same: Angry, depressed, shutting her emotions, soul, and heart off from everyone, though Kevin had kept her going.  Alex didn’t know it, but Benny had delved what he experienced to Kevin.

_“Uncle Benny, you know Mom rolls her eyes when you tell her that story about the dreams.”_

_“I know, pitit, but it’s come to fruition for every member of the family, even her parents.”_

_“Mom isn’t exactly looking to jump into the dating pool. You remember that poor drunk who tried to pick her up at your bar? Donna had to step in before she squeezed his balls off.”_

_“Oh, but pitit, her mother was the same way until it happened to her.  She didn’t believe in the old stories and said they were bullshit.  Valente even believes the tales.  I think he’s hoping this man is real and as he said it, ‘Benny, I hope this isn’t some drunken rambling.’”_

“Andrea will be happy to see you when she gets home.  You know she’ll make some of those stuffed grape leaves and baklava you love.”

“You mean the grape leaves Valente will devour leaving none for any of us.” 

Benny simply laughed for Valente called them his crack.  Even in high school, the scrawny blonde would inhale an entire pan’s worth and ask for more. 

“Heya, Alex!”

Alex jerked her head towards the voice, catching Donna waltzing in. 

“Donna,” she raised her glass.  “Still terrorizing the drivers, I see.”

“You betcha.” Benny placed a pint before her.  “I heard you have a new lawyer in town.”

“Don’t remind me,” Alex muttered in her drink. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” 

“He’s an arrogant pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he thinks the same thing about you, cheri,” Benny raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Marshal Alexandra Koch,” an unfamiliar voice boomed from behind.  Alex spun around to see a woman standing there. 

“Who wants to know?” Alex lazily took another drink. 

“You’ve been served,” the woman’s arm shot out, presenting a subpoena.  Alex sighed and begrudgingly accepted the unwanted offering.  “Have a nice day.”

Benny and Donna traded looks as she opened the envelope and read the document.  “SHIT!”

“What’s wrong, cheri?”                                                                                               

“Goddamnit! Pitit gason yon bitch! Manman fucker! That bastard Heyerdahl’s lawyer filed a complaint claiming I abused that bata!”

“What?”  Donna shifted in her seat, taking another drink.

“Heyerdahl cried brutality to Adler.”

“Alex,” Benny leaned over, grabbing her hand. 

“I didn’t hurt him.  I followed procedure when we arrested him.”

“Cheri, you had him pinned on the pavement and in a chokehold.”

“It’s the word of a criminal against mine.  Who do you think a judge is gonna believe?” Alex’s tone lowered to a dangerous pitch, almost a growl, as she polished off the rest of her drink.  “I gotta get.”

Alex jumped off the stool and rushed out the door, leaving Benny and Donna to wonder what she was going to do.  Benny reached for his cell.

“Valente, we have a problem.”

* * *

 

Barba was seated in office, reviewing additional information before the arraignment that awaited him.  He was going to seek remand, no question about that.  Heyerdahl ranked up there with Johnny Drake, the now deceased trafficker who had killed a bailiff and almost succeeded in killing Detective Amaro before the latter got a few rounds in his chest. 

His musings interrupted by a mixture of obscenities in English and a tongue he wasn’t familiar with. 

“Barba!”  It was his favorite angry marshal. 

“Marshal Koch, is there a problem?”  He rose to greet her as she stormed in his office, something gripped tightly in her left hand. 

“Just a little one,” she slammed the complaint on top of the pile on his desk.  He reviewed the statement of complaint then looked up to be greeted with a murderous glare; though not towards him.  

“Adler is claiming you assaulted Heyerdahl while he was in custody.”

“I didn’t assault him! Adler’s trying to make me look like a loose cannon so he can get brownie points with the jury and cast reasonable doubt!”

“Marshal,” Rafael took a deep breath, “Sit.”

Alex felt the twinges of a tension headache forming but took the seat across from him.

“I will talk to your deputies and the agents present when the incident occur- “

“Alleged,” she rudely cut him off.  “I didn’t punch or kick him. I didn’t restrict his ability to breathe.”

“Marshal, I realize you’re upset about this,” he got up and fetched a cup of coffee, placing it before the agitated woman.  “But your anger issues are not a secret to anyone.”

“Thank you,” she muttered.  “In my defense, I haven’t killed anyone out of rage.  I have 5 confirmed kills, all of which were clean shots.  One bastard had an AR-15 trained on Cole; another took a shot at Dean’s head which missed, thankfully.  I went through the hoops of internal investigations and the grilling of our lovely investigators who have been determined to get my ass out because they also think I’m a ‘ticking timebomb.’  Not to mention they don’t like me or Lisa because a strong woman in law enforcement hurts their delicate man-feelings.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you know about Adler and his dream team.”   Barba was good a deflecting and sensed Adler was a subject she would easily fall into discussing.

“We’d be here all night.”

“Marshal, are you alright?”  He noticed her fingers massaging each temple. 

“Tension headache,” she winced.  “It’s like the ex who won’t go away.”

Rafael always carried something and retrieved some tabs from his briefcase.  “Here,” he passed two across the desk. 

“Mèsi anpil,” she was grateful even if they were Tylenol. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Creole for thank you so much.  I was born in Louisiana and Creole is my first language.”

“Really?  Mine was Spanish.”

“Ah, yo hablo Espanol tambien,” she quipped before downing the drugs.  “Lo siento por ser grosero.”

“He tenido mucho peor,” he simply shrugged it off. “Tengo hambre?”

“Un pequito,” Alex was more than a little hungry.  She had forgotten to eat lunch earlier. 

“Know some good Chinese places that will deliver?” Barba started reaching for his phone.

“Yeah, I may know a place,” Alex said with a tiny smile.

* * *

Translations:

Cheri – Dear

Sa fe lontan – It’s been a while

Wi, li gen – Yes, it has

Mwen regrete, men – I apologize, but

Wou kaka – Asshole

al anba po ou – Getting under your skin

Famni – Family

Matche – Match

Pitit - Son

Pitit gason yon bitch – Son of a bitch

Manman fucker – Mother fucker

Bata – Bastard

Mèsi anpil – Thank you so much

Yo hablo Espanol tambien – I speak Spanish as well

Lo siento por ser grosero – I’m sorry for being rude

He tenido mucho peor – I’ve had much worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE!!!!!


	4. Arraignment Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arraignment, a few honest truths by Cole, Valente being Valente, Rufus makes his appearance, and a little slinging of "observations" by Barba and Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone who is reading, posting comments/kudos and enjoying this. Slowly but surely our ADA is chipping away at that armor.

“So, I heard you had a date with the ADA last night.”

Alex rolled her eyes at Valente’s playful jab as she savored her coffee.  Leave it to him to assume such the jackass.

“It wasn’t a date.  I was pissed Adler filed a complaint against me and I stormed the fortress.”

“Whatever,” he smirked.  

_Wait until Benny gets a load of this.  He’s going to freak._

“Will you drop it, V?  We discussed the Unholy Trinity over some House of Hong as I fended off a headache.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.  PERIOD.”

“You scared Benny storming off like that.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Alex crossed her arms and glared.  “And does everyone think I have anger issues?”

“Yeah, we all do.  The Heyerdahl case is high profile and it’s stressful for us all.  You know Adler will try everything in his power to cast reasonable doubt or at least make the jury think you’re a grenade ready to go off.  All he has to do is look into past cases or worse….”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she relented with regret.  “But you know how I feel about traffickers; especially Heyerdahl.  Bastard slipped us once before.  He has no prior criminal record which gives Barba a disadvantage.”

“Alex,” Valente sighed, “I did a little reading on Barba and he had a case with a trafficker, Johnny Drake, who had no existing criminal record but was a major trafficker for over 20 years.  Son of a bitch was still charged and girls who had been victims testified, providing crucial insight about the horrors they endured at his hand.  This isn’t his first rodeo in this department.”

“Yeah, and he also was acquitted of murder.  I’m sure Dean filled you in on that.”

“Yep, he did.  Couldn’t blame him for his actions.  I would’ve done the same.  I think under that snarky façade is a man who is compassionate about his work.  Just as you are compassionate about the lives you save each time your team captures a murderer, rapist, terror suspect, and other degenerates.  You don’t show it outwardly, Lex, but I see it when you tell me about catching the latest piece of shit. It’s in your voice and in your eyes.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Dr. Phil.”

Alex sighed and helped herself to more coffee. When Valente wasn’t looking, she slipped a dose of Johnny in the contents.  She was going to need it with today being the arraignment and there was no way in Hell she was missing this.  From what she could deduce on Barba, he wasn’t one to fuck around.  She had filled him in on Adler and his slimy tactics including character assassination and using past histories to shame witnesses and subtly humiliate them on the stand.  Sands was simply a bitch and Whitelighter used parallel strategies to Adler.  Barba was in for a fight. 

“Henricksen going to the arraignment?”

“Yeah,” Valente hollered.  “I think Morris is going as well if he gets out of a meeting early enough.”

“Sounds like the whole crew will be there.”

* * *

 

“It’s such a beautiful day for a hearing; don’t you think, Marshal?” Heyerdahl mused in a sing song tone from the backseat.  Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter, exercising heavy restraint. Their prisoner’s eerily calm and annoying jolly demeanor only irritated the team further.

“Shut it,” Lisa snapped her head back with a hateful glare though concealed by her shades. 

“I was simply attempting to engage your Marshal in casual conversation.  This ride has been rather dreadful and monotone.  Although, I sense you two are a little on edge.  It’s funny, I’m the one on trial and cool as the Arctic, but you two are the ones stressing over it.  You should be experiencing schadenfreude not distress.”

Both stayed tight lipped, refusing to fuel his ego. 

“You okay over there?”  Cole looked to Alex who slowly shook her head. 

“No, not really.”

“You’re worried about that complaint.  Look, we have your six.  We’re well aware of Adler’s bullshit and know he’s gonna bring it up.  You’re a fucking awesome Marshal.”

“Yeah, but my anger, it…..”

“Stop,” Cole cut her off.  “I’ve seen Marines lose their shit over a lot less.  You’ve been through Hell the last few years.”

“Understatement,” she muttered and turned her focus out the window.  “Do you think I have anger management problems, Cole?”

“Alex, I’ll be honest. You have lost your cool a few times over the last year, but this is a high stress job.  Your son is off in another state going to college and you can’t be there to protect him all the time.  You have to live with something that no one should ever have to endure.  I know it still gets you and you don’t know how to navigate all the emotions sometimes, so you lash out.  Some days, you struggle.  You wear this armor, so people think you’re made of Teflon; but we know better. Under that armor is a woman who has suffered and closed out the world.  You dove head-first into the job hoping it distracts your mind, preventing it from drifting to that dark place you locked up.”

“Good to know.”

* * *

 

As expected, the media was out in full force on the courthouse steps.  Dean shook his head in disgust as he watched the shit show unfolding up ahead.  He not like reporters, did not like the microphones being shoved in their faces, the annoying prodding questions, or how they seemed to always get his bad side. Why did he always look 20 pounds fatter on TV?

“Look at them,” Cole huffed, “Vultures fighting over the latest bits of roadkill.  I’m glad the Counselor gets to weave through that mess.”

“We have to run through that gauntlet in case you forgot.” 

No sooner did the doors open and Heyerdahl showed his face, his attorney, Zachariah Adler was instantly at his side. 

“Mr. Adler, do you have any comments regarding today’s arraignment?”

“No, we do not.”

“Mr. Heyerdahl, do you have any comment about the charges the Federal prosecutor has laid out?”

Alex rolled her eyes, only because she had her glasses on.  Cole rounded the Suburban and together they joined Dean and Lisa who each had a precarious grip on each of Heyerdahl’s arms.  The media could be such a fucking pain in her ass. For weeks after that night, they hounded her, determined to get the slightest edge over the others yet at the same time trampling on her privacy and sanity.

Barba made his way out to see the Marshals bringing their prisoner up the steps like fishermen hauling in their catch.  He noticed Alex was clothed in denim, tactical vest, with boots to match.  Her weapon secured on her hip and hair restrained in a tight bun.  Completely different persona than the previous night where she divulged intel over Adler and his merry group of leaches in denim with a white V neck style shirt and black blazer completed with fashionable but not overly high heel boots topped off with a messy ponytail.  Her face as serious, somber really, as they made their way up the concrete steps and towards the entrance. 

“Counselor,” she greeted him while passing by.  Heyerdahl snapped his head towards Barba, casting a sneer in his direction as Adler locked eyes with his adversary. This was going to be a long trial.

* * *

 

Judge Rufus Turner could barely contain his disdain upon sight of Adler in his court. 

“Mr. Adler, I see you’re representing this exemplary human being.  It’s so nice to see you back in my court,” the sarcasm dripped from his lips. “To what do I owe the honor this time?”

“Nice to see you too, Your Honor,” Adler quipped. 

“On the charges to trafficking, rape, kidnapping, torture, and murder, how do you plea?”

“Not guilty Your Honor.  These charges are simply outrageous.” The smug smile returned to Heyerdahl’s slightly chapped lips. 

“And on bail, the People request….”

“Remand, Your Honor.  Mr. Heyerdahl is a known international human trafficker who exploits children, teens, and young adults ranging from forced servitude to prostitution.  He has access to financial resources which makes him a flight risk.  Not to mention he has no ties to the community.   This man is a danger to the public at large.”

“Your Honor,” Adler complained, “My client has no known criminal record.  This is a vendetta being carried out by the US Marshals and FBI against my client.”

“Really?”  Barba had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.  “A conspiracy by the US government? That’s a new one.”

“Spare us the grandstanding, Mr. Adler.  Defendant is remanded throughout the trial.  Date will be set for one week from today at 8 AM. And Mr. Barba, save your preaching for your closing arguments.” 

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Barba was relieved.  He looked over to see Alex nodding.  The rest of her team, along with Henricksen, Valente, and Morris were seated on the two front benches. 

* * *

 

“Thank god Turner issued remand,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, don’t celebrate yet, Dean,” Lisa watched Adler conferring with Heyerdahl.  “We know Adler is gearing for a fight.”

“Which is why all of you who were there during the arrest will be testifying for the prosecution.  I’m gonna need to sit down with all of you and prep for your testimonies,” Barba paused and looked directly at Alex, “Marshal, we’re gonna need to sit and talk about your situation.  Let’s meet after this.”

“Of course,” she nodded. What choice did she have?

Valente and Morris offered to assist with taking Heyerdahl back so Alex and Barba could talk. 

* * *

 

She sat across from him yet again with the reports strewn across his desk.  This time she came prepared, a bottle of Ibuprofen 800 was in one of her vest pockets.  She really wished she had some Johnny for her coffee right about then.  Guess the caramel flavoring would have to suffice for now.  She settled in, awaiting for whatever it was Barba planned to hurl at her.

“So, according to Adler’s complaint, you had taken Heyerdahl to the ground, putting a knee in the center of his back before pulling his upper body up off the pavement and locking him in a choke hold.”

“First off, it was a rear naked choke which is a submissive position.  It’s perfectly legal within the scope of our actions.”

“I wouldn’t advise stating that in court.”

“I’m simply clarifying what that arrogant prick Adler is complaining about,” Alex huffed.  “I read the hospital report and there were no marks on his throat and in reality, the pavement was pretty hot so in a way I was alleviating his discomfort when he was partially off the ground.”

“If you say so,” Barba raised an eyebrow in disbelief.  “Again, I wouldn’t state that during the trial.”

“I do say so and I’m not stupid.”

“You realize excessive force is a serious allegation.”

“One I didn’t do.  Every single one of us, including Valente and Morris, have had some upstanding citizen in our custody accuse us of being ‘rough’ with them.  They watch too much COPS and Live PD.”

Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes and shaking his head.  

“Marshal, please, work with me here.  The defense is going to find some way to use this against you and the Marshals’ office.  I guarantee it.  I may not know Adler as well as you or the others, but I’ve crossed paths with lawyers like him.”

“I can handle my own, Counselor.  I’ve been doing it for a while now.”  Alex felt her body bristle but willed her mind to still. 

_He’s trying to help you!_

“I get it, Marshal.”

“Do you?”  This ought to be good.

“I’m the intruder in your city.  You’re not sure what to make of me but I challenge you and it makes you uneasy.”

Alex sat there, staring back.  Rafael felt slightly empowered by her silence.

“You’re always in charge, in power, calling the shots.  There hasn’t really been anyone to stand up to you.”

“Watch it, Counselor.”

“I’m merely making observations from the last several days and it appears I’m right.”

“If we’re making observations, your attire screams compensation.  The suits are designer, which I don’t know, but I suspect at least a few grand per ensemble.  Your ties are unconventional in the color schemes and not what I see of most attorneys.  You’re making a statement, Counselor, perhaps a silent fuck you to someone or some group.  A subtle means to standing up and out.  It’s not every day I see a prosecutor, especially one of Latino descent, wearing a multi purple tie and matching silk square. No, most stick to red or blue or more masculine color patterns but not you. You use sarcasm as a weapon; a sort of posturing or defense mechanism. Am I getting warm?”

Barba raised an eyebrow as Alex patiently sat, awaiting his rebuttal.  Something was dancing in those deep emerald rings as he pondered his next move.  

“Are you done with your bartender psychoanalysis?”

“For now,” she projected a snarky smile.

Barba kicked his feet off his desk and straightened up in his seat.  “I need your account of what happened from the moment the door came down to detainment.  And don’t leave anything out.  The one thing you decide to leave out, the defense will use to blow up your credibility and possibly impact this case.”

The stone-cold seriousness in his words caught her attention. 

“The last thing I want to see happen is that son of a bitch walking or cause anyone to question my stellar reputation.”

“Good, now that we’re in agreement, shall we proceed?”

“Sure…..But, first, food.  I don’t play well with others on an empty stomach; especially smart-ass prosecutors who want to question me about excessive force and ‘challenge me’.  I’m feeling some she-crab soup.”

“Alright,” Rafael had a faint smile dance across his lips as he reached for the phone. “So, what’s exactly she-crab soup?”

He watched her mouth curl into a slow grin as she responded. 

“One of the best damn dishes in the Southeast.  Trust me. Even in the heat of a Charleston summer, it’s simply divine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

 

Just as Alex pulled up to the house, Valente was darting out the door with gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey! I was about to meet some of the gang for a little pump action.  Wanna join us?”

“After today’s mental marathon, I’m dragging ass, V.  If I feel it, I’ll go for a run later or pull up one of my Bodyflow workouts on the TV.”  Alex didn’t like lying to her best friend, but in reality, she wanted to be alone. 

“Fine,” he shrugged and headed for his car.  “But you’ll miss out on Dean and Cole’s dead lift competition.”

“You mean Hans and Franz and I’ve seen those two do enough pump offs to last a lifetime.  When those two decide to do Yoga or Pilates, then I’ll be interested.”

“Only because Yoga pants would be involved,” Valente snickered. 

“True,” she sighed before heading up the steps and out of the scorching heat.  Despite being over 200 years old, the house had surprisingly held its own against the unforgiving South Carolina summers and hurricanes.  It sat north of the southern edge of the Battery where all of the pomp and antebellum relics stood tall and proud, as if in defiance; an era that Alex was thankful had gone.  Most of the houses had endured some degree of damage during the Civil War but the damage had been since plastered and painted over, like it never happened; more like refusing to simply get over their side lost.  The home she and Valente occupied had been in her dad’s family since it was built before the turn of the 18th century; before that, a smaller residence existed, built before the Revolutionary War but was replaced with the modest abode that now rested in the shadow of Charleston’s gentility.  After what happened, Valente had moved into one of the spare rooms, refusing to let her and Kevin be alone. 

Alex found her thoughts drifting to Barba, wondering where he had found his sanctuary.  Perhaps one of the townhomes that ring Rainbow Row or out on the western end by the Coast Guard station.  Hell, he probably has a swanky place up in West Ashley.  All the high-priced ambulance chasers had places there including the Unholy Trinity. 

Dropping her keys in the bowl on the stand, she made a beeline for the kitchen, seeking out some relief from the tedious day that was now behind her.  Barba was right about one thing: She didn’t like being challenged.  But when she was challenged by anyone, her defense mechanisms would kick in followed by an aggressive sometimes explosive reaction; not with Rafael Barba.  Even the first time she didn’t scream, yell, or holler.  Sure, she felt her anger rise each time he got under her skin but, she didn’t lose it.  It just….simmered like pot of she-crab soup in January.

_Reading too much into this.  He’s still a doulè nan manman bourik la._

Sighing, she pulled the rum out of the cabinet followed by a can of Coke.  It was that kind of night.

* * *

 

Barba reclined in the chair; his fingers curled around a glass of scotch while he pondered about a certain Marshal.  She deflected his words with skill easily launched them back at him as the exchange between them earlier that day demonstrated.  His expectation to witness Mount Alex explode fell flat as nothing more than a few puffs of smoke had escaped.  He wondered what had happened in her past to mold the distant angry woman who had sat before him.  Henricksen and Dean had hinted at something significant, something tragic or traumatic maybe.  When she was around her team or any other colleague, her guard was slightly relaxed but continued to keep people at arm’s length; preventing anyone from getting too close.  And when it came to him, she was even more closed off.

Rafael realized a part of him yearned to become closer to her.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about her that pulled him in. 

 

Translation: _doulè nan manman bourik la - Pain in the ass_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with parts of this but I hope all of you still enjoy this crazy work.


	5. Warhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyerdahl's trial starts.......It's gonna be ugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled to get this somewhat believable but it took a week or so but I think I got something plausible.

Heyerdahl’s day in court had finally arrived.

Alex was perched out in the hallway, hoping the migraine would be gone before she was called in to testify.  Valente had returned home after she proceeded to pass out.  His arrival didn’t stir her slumber the slightest. Before arriving to the shit show, she downed an Imitrex and loaded her pocket with a few more, knowing she was going to need all the help she could get.  As she sat there, with eyes closed and teeth gritted, an all too familiar voice echoed off the walls.

“Marshal.”

_Oh my god!!!  His voice is SO loud!_

“Counselor,” she willed her gaze upward, hoping she didn’t look what she felt inside.  “What’s the lineup look like?”  This migraine had to be one of the worst she could recall.  The Imitrex could work a little faster anytime now.

“I’m going to call Morris and Trenton first since they found the girl.  Speaking of which, any word on her?”

“24-hour detail.  She was moved out of ICU last Friday.  She’s talking and her memory is hazy, but she wants to testify.  I was going to stop by after the trial concluded for today. Cole and Morris made a few trips over already, showing their support since they found her.”

“Good,” he nodded then noticed she had a rather fatigued demeanor.  “Marshal, are you alright?” 

“Rough night; migraine kept me up.”

Understatement.

“You don’t look so well.”

Again, extreme understatement. 

 “Thanks for the support.”

“Do you want some coffee or water?”

Alex weighed his offer, finding herself standing and rubbing her temples.  She had been running a little light in the hydration department.  “Actually, I would love some coffee.  And I took an Imitrex before I left home; hoping it will kick in before I have to see Adler’s smug face.” 

“You suffer from migraines?” 

“Sadly, I have been for 7 years.  Makes the job a little hard some days.”  Not to mention those days she spent hunched over the toilet or closing every curtain and wearing her sunglasses indoors or earmuffs to dampen the cruel blare of light or sound or both.

Her skull pounded as her brain threatened to explode from its bony confines.  The light was unbearable, causing her to squint and lean closer to Rafael for support as they made their way towards the little coffee nook on the ground floor. Every sound was agonizing to her ears.  Had it not been for the fact she was on the list to testify, she would’ve stayed in bed, covers over her head.

* * *

 

“How do you take it?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee, how do you take it?”  Barba and the barista were awaiting her answer. 

“Black, please,” she refused to give this fucking migraine any leeway or reason to stick around longer than it had.  “How much?”

“It’s on me,” Barba waved her hand aside and offered a small smile. 

“Thank you,” she smiled weakly.  The slightly heavy sensation pricked her fingers; it was the first sign the Imitrex was working. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled back.  Perhaps Barba wasn’t such a bad guy. 

Valente popped his head up from his phone, catching Alex and Barba walking together towards him.  They looked so adorable walking side by side and she was precariously close to him. Awwww…….so tooth rotting sweet.

“You look slightly better,” he closed the screen, so neither would see he was trading texts with Benny and Kevin.

“Imitrex is finally kicking in; but, seeing Adler’s smug mug might trigger another.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Any word on when our survivor will testify?”

“Hopefully tomorrow,” Morris chimed in.  “And she told us her name is Kristi but was called Ruby by Heyerdahl’s clientele.”

“Have they found any family?” 

“Yeah, they found an aunt and uncle out west who will be taking her in after the trial, Counselor.” 

“At least she’ll have support to get through this nightmare.”

“For now, we have marshals from Columbia covering security until we get through testifying.  Once she’s released from the hospital, we’ll move her to a safe house.”

“Good, keep her under tight supervision.  The last thing we need is a key witness to go missing and wind up being found with the morning tide.”

* * *

 

Alex sat outside of the courtroom.  The Imitrex had worked its magic, a sweeping sense of peace washing over her as she waited to testify.  Cole and Morris were up first, giving detailed, graphic, pained details of what their eyes fell upon in Hell’s sub-basement.  The depths of human depravity never ceased; somewhere, someone would dream up a new even deeper level of sadism to inflict upon angels for the enjoyment of monsters; levels that would make the Marquis de Sade cringe.

“Hey,” Valente took a seat beside her.   “You look a lot better.”

“Calm before the storm,” Alex sighed heavily.  “I bet Adler calls me right before lunch.”

“Because you get hangry?” 

“You could say that.  He’s going to go for my jugular, V.”

“And you’ll be ready.  You’ve stared down Adler in the past and didn’t rip his head off in court.”

“Well, Turner wouldn’t let me; all that it’s illegal to kill someone bull and having to clean up the mess.” 

Valente laughed.  “Yeah, that sounds like Turner,” he took a drink of his coffee.  “I hope Barba tears into Heyerdahl.”

“Hopefully he leaves something for the rest of us peons.”

“I get the feeling he has an idea of your endearment towards him.”

“Nice choice of language, asasen.” 

Both sat in silence before she spoke back up.  Alex stared into the empty cup curled in her hand, knowing she needed to tell him.

“Kevin said he’s coming down for the weekend.  He wants to be there when –“

“You know Kev would never miss that.  He’s always considered Gadreel his dad.  The man loved him and raised him as his own.”  He could see the pain etched deeply in her eyes, dulling the cerulean to a lackluster cyan.

“I know.  He still calls him Dad even though…..” Alex felt the tightening in her chest and throat as she fought back the tears threatening to swell. 

“Hey,” Valente draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him.  “I know it still hurts.  If anyone says it stops hurting is full of shit.  Time only dulls it.”

“After this, I’m gonna need a drink, V; actually, a lot of drinks.” 

“I think we all will.  I’m sure Benny’s going to be expecting us.”

The door to the courtroom opened and Morris stepped out.

“Hey, how did it go?”  Valente caught his partner approaching.  A grim expression lined his face, a bad sign as far as Alex was concerned.

“Adler isn’t holding back.  Barba would thrust and the bastard would parry.  He’s fighting like Hell to create reasonable doubt.”

“With the evidence your techs found, there’s no way.  His fingerprints were everywhere, not to mention the documents, and SD cards with photos and videos.  How!?”

Morris took a deep breath, knowing what he was going to say next was not going to sit well with her. 

“He’s attacking your team, trying to imply that somehow Heyerdahl is being set up.”

“BULLSHIT!”

“Yeah, I know.  We all know it is.”

“Lovely,” she sighed. 

The doors rushed open and outstepped Barba.  Alex raised an eyebrow at the prosecutor’s appearance. 

“Recess,” he caught the befuddled expression and spied Valente’s arm draped over her shoulder but said nothing.  “Marshal, how are you feeling?”

“I was feeling better until Mr. Gloom and Doom came out.”

“He’s questioning the integrity, chain of custody, procedures, and anything else he can attack,” he looked directly at Alex as he added, “He’s going to come after you, Marshal.  He questioned Morris and Trenton about your actions and past incidences. Adler’s trying to make this look like a vendetta.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time some ambulance chasing prick has attacked me on every level possible and it won’t be the last.”

“Don’t be so cavalier, Marshal.”

“I can handle my own, Counselor; as I said before, I’ve been holding my own for a while now.”

And there it was; the snark had returned. 

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I’m going to grab more coffee,” Valente rose and walked from the pair towards the elevator.  “You kids behave while I’m gone.”

“Yes, Dad,” Alex rolled her eyes.  Barba decided to occupy the vacated spot, essentially pressing her between his body and the wall.

“He’s going to go for my jugular,” she quietly admitted.

“How?  Remember what I told you about hiding things?”

“It’s nothing secret or any concealed truth.  He’s going to find a way to incite me; he’s done it in the past and succeeded a few times.”

“What do you mean, Marshal?  Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard I’ve been through some things,” her shoulders dropped, no longer pensive.

“Not specifically.”

Before she could elaborate, the doors swooshed open and Cole stepped out. 

“Trial’s starting back up.”

Barba made a face before rising to resume his battle against Adler. He cast one last look over his shoulder towards Alex who was nose down in her phone before he vanished through the doors.

* * *

 

Alex emerged from the bathroom, feeling a little lighter. 

“Lex!  You’re up!” Morris hollered as he sprinted down the hall.

“At least I got to use the bathroom,” she muttered and quickened her pace.

* * *

 

She tensed up there on the stand, feeling the smug stare of Adler landing squarely on her.  Goddamn parasite syphoning off the desperation of the criminal scum. It was fitting for him.

_Bring it on, Baldy._

“Do you swear to the tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Yes,” she flatly answered.

“Mr. Barba, you may begin,” Judge Turner nudged him.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he stood and buttoned the front of his suit jacket.  “Marshal Koch, how long have you been a United States Marshal?”

“I was appointed in 2012 to the position by President Obama; before that, I had been a Deputy Marshal for 5 years.”

“And in your experience with the Marshals, have you ever heard of one Alistair Heyerdahl?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He was wanted on charges here in the States on child trafficking and sex trafficking and he had fled to Europe and was subsequently located outside of Paris, France.  I was on the team dispatched to capture then extradite him back to the States to face those charges.”

“And what happened?”

“When we arrived at the house, he had escaped us again; tipped off by someone we were coming for him.”

“Objection: Speculation.”

“Sustained; the jury will disregard that last statement.”

“Let me rephrase that: Marshal, when you arrived at the empty house, what were you told by French authorities?”

“That the suspect had fled and evaded the local law enforcement despite their best efforts to locate him.  They stated it was possible someone had tipped him off or he got spooked and fled.”

“You’ve worked on this case extensively, Marshal.  Why is that?” 

“Heyerdahl was placed on our 15 Most Wanted list alongside the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted and has stayed there for almost 8 years . My team was asked to make this a priority given his previous history and connections to the Charleston area and heinous acts he was known to have committed.”

“And how was it this was revealed to you and your team?”

“The FBI’s task force for trafficking had spent considerable time gathering intelligence and surveillance on known Heyerdahl associates, victims, transactions, and information shared with local and international partners.”

“Some are claiming this is a vendetta perpetrated by you because Heyerdahl had escaped you once before.  Is that true?”

“Absolutely not,” she bristled at the thought.  “Again, this was years of intelligence gathering, coordination, and information exchanging with multiple agencies.  Mr. Heyerdahl is a known trafficker responsible for unmentionable acts and crimes that would make Satan cringe.”

“Objection!  The witness is slandering my client!” Adler shot up, incensed at her words.

“Sustained,” Judge Turner craned his neck and cast a warning look at Alex.  “Marshal, I would advise you to stick to the facts and not exaggerate words.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

“Nothing further,” Barba decided that would be a good place to stop.  Alex watched as Adler rose and straightened his shoulders. 

“Marshal Koch, at the time of my client’s arrest, he complained you had used excessive force against him.  Tell me, is pinning one’s knee into the center of a restrained suspect’s back then proceeding to put him into a choke hold and lifting his upper body up and back considered reasonable?”

“Mr. Heyerdahl is an extremely dangerous international criminal.  I used appropriate tactics in subduing and arresting the suspect.”  The asshole wasted no time; right out of the gate he was going for the kill.

“Well, your colleagues testified that my client was on the ground when this incident occurred.  Do you still claim you followed procedure?”

“I acted appropriately within the boundaries of my authority.”

“Appropriately that your colleagues had to separate you from my client because they were concerned you may have harmed him?”

Alex tensed and clenched her jaw. 

“I acted appropriately within the boundaries of my authority.” She repeated her words with a defensive tone.  Barba could hear the accent deepening the further she became agitated.

“And was this the first time you were accused of applying excessive force on a suspect?”

“No,” her hands curled into the ends of the arm rests.  “I was accused of it before.”

“Objection, where is this questioning leading to?”

“Sustained,” Judge Turner raised an eyebrow, “Mr. Adler, please keep your questioning within in the scope of this case.  This will be the ONLY time I warn you.”

“Apologies,” Adler walked back towards his notes, reviewing something before returning his attention to Alex.  “When did you first hear the name Alistair Heyerdahl?”

“It was the first year I was appointed to Marshal.” 

“How did you learn about him?”

“We busted a child trafficking ring in North Charleston.  One of the pimps caught turned and name him as the one running it.”

“So, this pimp that turned, did he get anything in exchange for being a turn coat?”

“Objection.” 

“Sustained,” Judge Turner narrowed his eyes at Adler.  “You will refrain from using derogatory comments when referring to suspects or witnesses, Counselor.”

“I apologize your honor.”

Adler circled back around.

“Did the pimp arrested receive any favorable treatment or reduced sentence in exchange for this information?”

“I wouldn’t know; I’m a cop, not a lawyer.  You would need to speak with the DOJ about that.”

“Hmmm……So, perhaps your determination to find Mr. Heyerdahl stems from something else?”

“I’m not sure what you’re mean.”

Barba watched her eyes narrow, uncertainty brewing in her eyes.  He sensed something coming; a storm.

 “Was it not determined that one of his alleged associates arrested in another operation was a suspect in the home invasion which resulted in the murder of your husband?  Perhaps that was what motivated you so deeply to track my client down like a hunted animal, convinced he ordered his death and your torment which resulted in your subsequent –‘

“OBJECT-“ Both men didn’t get a chance to finish their words as an enraged female voice joined theirs.

“OU BATA!”  Alex shot up, pounding her fists on the top of the rail.  The team, along with Morris, Valente, and Henricksen, were a mix of shocked, horrified, and angered as Adler pulled his trump card out.  “YOU LEAVE MY DEAD HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER OUT OF THIS!”  Her rage guiding her actions as her body leapt over the rail and lunged for Adler. A deep crimson splotched her face and neck and a vein threatened to hemorrhage from her left temple. Adler backed up, fear dominating his eyes and body.   The jury was frozen, shocked at the spectacle playing out before them as was everyone else present.  Heyerdahl just smirked.

“Mwen pral ravaje kè ou soti!   

“ORDER!  ORDER!” Turner slammed his gravel in rapid fire motion.  Valente rushed the stand, not caring if he got in trouble or whatever it was that happened for doing so.  He thrust his body between the two, grappling Alex to the ground, frantically attempting to calm her down.  Lisa and Cole rushed to help while Henricksen provided additional coverage for Adler.  He would be damned if that asshole had another reason to file another grievance.

Barba felt his heart stop and air rush from his lungs.  He watched Alex up there, shaking and enraged with tears streaking down her cheeks and chin snapping in an instant.  The rest of the team rushed to Valente’s aid, barricading Adler not to protect Alex from him but to protect him from Alex who continued screaming in Creole while struggling to reach Adler’s pale flabby throat which was well out of her range.

“Your Honor, I’d like to request a recess.”

“My chambers NOW!!!”

* * *

 

Pissed was understating Judge Turner’s mood. 

“What in the FRESH HELL was that?!?”

“I was questioning a witness and it was relevant to my client’s case.” 

Barba watched as Judge Turner straightened then invaded Adler’s personal space until he was almost nose to nose with man.  Suddenly, Adler felt a little smaller standing in Judge Turner’s presence.  The tension thickening like a fog, enshrouding the two men. 

“Your choice of words and question only served your purpose to make Marshal Koch appear as if she has a vendetta or grudge against your client.  You knew she would react like that, wouldn’t you?” Barba hurled his accusation from behind, feeling his own anger bubbling.

“Marshal Koch could’ve kept her emotions in check, Rafael, instead she blew up like a bomb and tried to come after me.  Everyone saw it.”   He didn’t bother to look back at the shorter man but didn’t care if he was glaring daggers at the back of his head.

“Your childish tactics of taunting my witnesses won’t-“ Barba was silenced by Judge Turner’s angered tone.

“Enough!  I will NOT be made to look like a goddamned fool in my own courtroom!  Especially when it involves YOU, Mr. Adler.”

 Judge Turner then turned his ire to Barba.

“I am dismissing your witness and instruct the jury to disregard her testimony.  Mr. Barba, I’m not sure what the courts of New York City were like, but down here, I run a tight ship.  If another outburst or incident occurs during this trial, I’m going to declare a goddamn mistrial.    Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” 

* * *

 

Rafael scrubbed his face with his hand before rounding the corner to see everyone in the hall.  Out here, he had friendly faces but those faces were dark, full of concern and disbelief.

“Where’s Marshal Koch?”  He noticed her glaring absence.

“After Judge Turner read you two the Riot Act, she took off.  And honestly, no one can blame her either.”  Dean spoke up.  "Bastard took a cheap shot."

“So, the ‘things’ that were referred to it was….”

“Yeah,” Henricksen spoke up.  “Alex was a victim of a home invasion.  Messed her up pretty bad; never the same after.  Watched her husband get cut up before they almost cut his head off and cut out his heart.”

“Christ,” Rafael didn’t know what to say. 

“Adler knew he was arming and setting off a nuclear weapon by doing that.  It was what he intended.  You know juries: They are as consistent as quicksand.  All it takes is one of them to believe Alex masterminded this somehow as payback for what happened to her.” Valente was beyond pissed.  He gave Benny the heads up about what transpired and if she wandered into the bar, call him.  He was waiting to hear back from Kevin.  

“Alex said he was going to go for her jugular,” Barba shook his head.  “He didn’t just do that; he ripped her throat out.”

Valente swore as he hit the end button on his phone.  “She’s not picking up.  It keeps going to her voicemail.” 

“I’ll call Donna and see they’ve seen her Jeep," Lisa was on it, automatically punching the trooper's numbers in.

Barba hurried to the courtroom to retrieve his stuff.  Judge Turner, in his deep and infinite wisdom, adjourned court for the day. 

“Valente, wait up!”

The blonde agent halted his hurried stride and waited. 

“I’m coming with you.”

Valente nodded with a hint of a smile. 

“Let’s go get her before she does something really stupid.”

 

* * *

 

Translations:  


Asasen: Jackass

Ou bata: You bastard

Mwen pral ravaje kè ou soti: I will rip your heart out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE these two will get close and closer and closer.


	6. Babysitters' Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is drunk, Barba and Alex have an intimate moment (She doesn't realize it), Barba is made an offer he really can't refuse, and Valente bonds with Barba, discussing their favorite Marshal of course over some Chinese and Scotch.

“Thanks, Lisa,” Valente hung up.  Barba was seated in the passenger side, attempting to peer through the deluge that was plaguing the city.  Damn pop up thunderstorm decided to set up right over the peninsula; a cruel joke by Nature as they continued driving. 

“Lisa checked at Guiry’s and nothing.  Benny tried calling her, but he couldn’t reach her. Dean’s checking a few other places just to be safe. Damn it!  Adler, that fucking son of a bitch.  That bastard…….” 

“Bastard went for the kill and it was an overkill.”  Rafael felt his chest tighten at the images replaying like a bad horror movie in his mind.  The feral rage that was unleashed in that courtroom had rattled him to say the least and it was obvious Rafael was not alone in the sentiment.  The pain in her eyes had gotten him.  He couldn’t start to fathom what she endured; images of one of, if not the worst night of her life hashed up for a few potential points with the jury. 

The sounds of a police siren went off; Valente’s ringtone. 

“Cole; you did?  She’s there now?  Okay, stay on her, we’re on our way.  Yes, Barba is with me.”

“She’s at the house; drowning in whiskey.”

 Rafael couldn’t but help to feel relieved despite her choice in coping mechanism.  “At least she’s safe.”

“Yeah, Cole’s parked, keeping her there until we get there.  I’m so glad I moved in after that night.”

“You live with her?”  Barba raised an eyebrow.

“Look, after what happened, I moved into the house and helped Alex with Kevin and fighting to keep her from going off the cliff.  Benny was beyond grateful for it; Benny’s her uncle and owns a bar over in the older part of town.”

“I can’t begin to comprehend what she’s been fighting for this long.”

“A lot, Counselor; A LOT.”

* * *

 

The rain refused to lighten when they reached the house.  Rafael was taken aback by the rather impressive abode. This was where she lived?  It had to be at least 100 or more years old.  Both men darted for the porch, thankful it was covered.  Valente opened the door with Rafael on his heels. 

“THAT MOTHERFUCKER!”  Alex’s voice was loud but slurred in speech. 

“Hey,” Cole greeted at the duo when they treaded cautiously into the parlor which was now the living room. 

“How’s she holding up?”  Rafael trained his eyes on the shaking, anguished form parked on the couch.  He felt compelled to sit down beside her, to comfort her. 

“She told me she came here after the fiasco.  She turned her phone off.  Her firearms are on the kitchen table.”

“I just wanted to be alone,” Alex bemoaned. 

“Nope, not happening,” Valente shook his head.  “I live here, too, remember?”

“Fuck ou,” she spat. 

“Marshal,” Rafael ditched his jacket, then waist coat, and rolled up his sleeves, “No one is leaving you alone.”

“Why?  Afraid I might do something?” She reached for the tumbler, the sweet elixir of solace, only to have Rafael slide it out of her reach.  He was rewarded with a nasty glare from her which he simply shrugged off.

“Yeah,” he passed the glass to Cole who confiscated the bottle as well.  “We are.”

“Well, thanks for the concern.”  She rolled her eyes before slumping against Rafael.  Alex didn’t move for several moments causing Rafael to ask aloud. 

“Did she?” 

Valente and Cole quickly checked her over and traded nods.

“Passed out.  She’ll wake up with nice little hangover,” Valente shrugged.  “Cole, get outta here.  Go home to Melinda and Matt.  We’ll take it from here. Thanks for babysitting her drunk ass.”

“You know it’s nothing, V.  We don’t let one another fall.”  Cole smiled sadly at his superior, who was now sleeping soundly against Barba.  “Take care of her; both of you.”

“We will,” Rafael nodded.

Valente heard his phone ringing and spied Dean’s number.  “Hey, she’s at the house; passed out.  Yeah, Barba and I are here now.  Yes, Dean, you heard me right.  Yes, Benny knows she’s safe.  Yep, bye.”

“We can now go back to DEFCOM 5 now all of the team knows she’s here.” 

“Good,” Rafael was attempting to shift around so Alex would be more comfortable.  “You guys remind me of the SVU squad back in Manhattan I used to work with.  They always had each other’s backs.”

“Despite the occasional spats and arguments, we’re family.  I’ve known Alex since she was 12; that was when her parents died in a horrific car wreck.  Benny and Andrea came up to Charleston to raise her in this house.  Then, she adopted Kevin when he was a toddler; his mom was a refugee, seeking a safer place for her newborn son.  Gadreel had walked upon her being harassed by some little Klan punks and laid their asses flat.  From then on, she became a dear family friend.  But, one day, she went missing.  We looked everywhere for her.  A boater in the harbor found her, face down, washed ashore onto Morris Island.  We couldn’t prove it, but, suspicions led to a hate crime.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, she was devastated but decided to adopt him and give him the best damn home she could.  Kid’s a damn genius you know.  Full ride to Duke.”

“Right people, right zip code; sounds like what Liv did with her son, Noah.  Mom was a former trafficked woman who was struggling to get right, only to be marked then raped, murdered, then torched.” Rafael couldn’t stop himself from looking down at her.  When she was asleep, she seemed at peace.  The dark circles and crow’s feet lifted, taking several hard years from her face.  His fingers slowly slid down until they were gently carding through her hair.  He couldn’t explain it only he just felt the need to do it.  Valente said nothing, instead smiling to himself at this intimate gesture.  After the shit day they had, this was welcome.  Alex looked very content in her slumber; head and shoulders propped under a pillow which rested in Barba’s lap. 

“You’re welcome to stay, Counselor,” Valente spoke up.  “I was going to order something anyway.”

“I-I don’t know, Valente.  I’m not so sure when she wakes up, she would be thrilled to see me here.”

“And how do you know that, Counselor?”

“I don’t think I’m in her fan club.  She didn’t exactly throw out the welcome mat for me.”

“Why?  Because you said something she didn’t like?  Please!  Alex has heard worse.  And that whole being challenged bullshit?  I’ll let you in on something: That is part of her defense mechanism.”

“You mean like when she dresses for a bust?  A one-woman SWAT?”

“Precisely!” 

“It’s because she doesn’t want people to think she’s weak; that she isn’t a victim and won’t be one again.”

“Like Henricksen said earlier, she wasn’t the same after what happened.  She shut down; Alex refused to open up, to talk about what happened.  She closed her heart after Gadreel died.”

“Her husband?” 

“Yeah,” Valente sadly nodded.  “All that we know about what happened was what the EMTs, police, and doctors told us.  She still refuses to divulge anything else.  Alex would rather suppress those memories and channel the anger and pain into the job.”

“She said her daughter in court?”

“Alex was 5 months pregnant when the attack happened.”

“Christ,” he stopped carding his fingers through the slightly disheveled tresses and looped his arm around her torso. 

“Kevin was with me, out at the movies.  Every day, I think some cosmic power made sure he was out of the house that night.” 

Valente returned to ordering something from House of Hong.  At that moment, broccoli beef, spring rolls, and rice sounded pretty damn good. 

“Hey. Counselor, what do you want?” 

“Sweet and sour chicken sounds good.  Got any scotch?”

“If we don’t, will whiskey work?”  Valente finished submitting their order and headed for the kitchen. 

“Sounds good,” Rafael sighed.  He moved his other arm so the opposite hand could continue carding through her hair.  Was it more for his benefit or hers?  Or both?  He needed to stop overthinking it and simply revel in this intimate moment. 

“Here,” Valente offered the tumbler. 

“Thanks,” he didn’t want to stop but regrettably accepted and took a slow long drink.  Damn, that felt good going down.  A shift in weight alerted Rafael to Alex moving and shifting until she was on her back. 

“You know, you can stay here for the night.  We have a spare room or two.  The house was built for a large family over 200 years ago.”

“I-I don’t know, Valente.  I mean I have work to do with this case and-“

“I can grab some clothes for you from your place.  You’re only a few blocks from here right?”  Valente helped himself to sort through Barba’s bag and jacket. “You can stay here.  The food’s already paid for and you can accept the order.”

“Valente, what are you doing?”  Rafael was a bit taken aback by the agent’s actions. 

“Going to get some things for you.  Besides, the King Tides will be rolling in right around rush hour tomorrow morning and you will be stuck for several hours as several major streets flood from the high water and yours is one of them.  You know, sea level rise and all.”

“What if she wakes up?” 

“Are you afraid she’ll bite you?  Just tell her the truth.  Women tend to appreciate that.”

“Just go, Valente.” Who was he fooling?  Rafael wanted to stay.  He didn’t want to go back to the lonely townhome off King Street.  Valente was slowly growing on him, they all were in some way, and he was worried about Alex.  It was alright to be concerned about the wellbeing of a colleague; especially one who has fought their traumas alone, while keeping those who care most about her out. 

_Stop overthinking this!_

Alex shifted then stretched, rolling back onto her side but this time she was facing his torso.  He silently thanked the fact the pillow created a plush buffer between them.  Hopefully Valente got his ass back before the food arrived.  He really didn’t want to move, risking the chance of waking her up.  But then again, he didn’t want her to wake up and find him in an awkward position either.  Taking a deep breath, Rafael took another drink, finishing off the tumbler, then returned his focus on her.  His fingers resumed their activity as he sadly spoke.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through Hell.  No one deserves what you were put through.”

Her breathing turned to light snoring as he continued.

“You put on this fierce persona, determined to shield yourself, so history won’t repeat itself.  You refuse to be a victim again; I get that.  You wanted to be strong, strong for your family, and keeping your emotions close to the vest; filling the void left behind.  But that armor you don each day; it keeps your heart and soul closed.”

The door swung open and Valente scurried in. 

“WOO!  It’s really coming down out there!  Did the food show up?”

“No, probably slowed by the beautiful weather outside.”

“Okay,” the blonde agent shook off the droplets clinging to his damp hair, “I grabbed the basics and I grabbed you a nice clean suit complete with tie.  Your choice of footwear however……” he held up the red and yellow pair, “I question.”

“What?  You wear black or grey socks with every suit you own?”  Rafael felt slighted. 

“Must be some screw you to the Man, right?  I’ll put these upstairs in the guest room.  Bathroom will be on the left.”

“Thanks, Valente.”

* * *

 

Valente carried Rafael’s bag upstairs, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket.  He knew it was Benny calling, he didn’t need to check.

“Yeah, Benny,” he answered before the final ring.

_“How is she?”_

“Passed out cold, using Barba as a pillow.  She was about three sheets in when we got here.  Adler really got to her today.”

_“Mèsi Bondye!  Tell Cole I owe him a round for keeping her ass parked.  And as for Adler: Si mwen wè l 'mwen pral koupe voye boul l', li ba yo manje gators yo.”_

“Oh, I will.  I convinced him to stay tonight.  I even went and grabbed his things.  Damn King Tides can be such a pain.” 

_“Oui.  I am glad the bar is not in the line of fire. But, please, do take care of Alexandra.  She doesn’t admit it, but we know she needs you and she needs Rafael Barba; and Rafael Barba needs her.”_

“Yeah, and how many times did she laugh at you when you mentioned that story?”  

_“Well, whether or not she likes it, she’s a Lafitte.  All Lafittes have this happen, man or woman.  Alexandra will realize this.”_

“We gotta chip away at that damn wall she’s thrown up, Benny.  You know she’s scared about getting too close to anyone.” 

_“Well, Valente, we will just have to let the family ‘curse’ as my niece calls it work its magic.”_

“You Creoles and your funky magic talk,” Valente laughed before bidding Benny goodbye.  He set Barba’s bag and suit on the bed, pleased with himself. 

* * *

 

 Valente darted down the staircase to see Barba carrying a large paper sack.

 “Finally,” he rubbed his hands together.  “Is she still out?” 

“Snoring lightly with bouts of incoherent mumbling although I am sure she may be strangling Alder in her sleep.” 

“Well, don’t tell her she snores, or she’ll viciously deny it.” 

The men took up the dining room table, laying out their long-awaited feast.  Rafael spied a few pairs of chopsticks and snagged a set. 

 “I’ll keep that in mind.  So, Valente……”  He wasn’t sure if he could say the words. 

 “So, Barba?  Something weighing on your mind?”   

“Marshal Koch, she…….”  Rafael fidgeted with the chunk of chicken between the narrow sticks. 

 “Despite the bitch like exterior, yes, she does have the capacity to feel.  Is someone getting tingly feelings?” 

 Rafael simply shrugged.   

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.  Well, I know Alex isn’t touchy feely and more kicky punchy, but, don’t let that deter you.”  

“She’s just so……angry and keeps everyone at some distance, even her team.” “I know, the anger management is left to be desired with Alex.  And I’m going to be the first to tell you she regrets what happened in that courtroom.  She won’t admit it outright, but, if Heyerdahl walks, Alex is going to blame herself.” 

“Why?  Adler provoked her and we all saw that.” 

“She’s worried the jury will buy into that whole vendetta bull.  We’ve all seen how juries can flip or flop.  It takes one juror, one seed of discord to be sowed; you know this, Counselor.”

 “Yeah, I do.  I’ve seen it happen too many times.” 

Rafael dunked the cooling chunk into the sauce, resuming playing with his food. 

 “Did your mom tell you it wasn’t polite to play with your food?” 

 “Yeah, she did.”

 “Look, Counselor, why don’t you ask Alex to dinner after this shit show ends?”

 “And what if she says no?  I don’t exactly see her jumping up and down screaming yes.”

 “You don’t know that,” Valente shrugged.  “She might like to.  It’s been a long time since someone showed her a nice time.  Yes, she chose to shut down, but, that doesn’t mean we can’t get her to open back up.  Walls aren’t impenetrable.”

 “You know, Counselor,” Valente continued between bites of broccoli, “If the Feds can’t make their case, I am hearing that the state is chomping at the bit for him.  The Attorney General’s office wants his ass for a laundry list of offenses and other ungodly crimes.  The one leading the charge is part of the trafficking task force: Casey Novak.” 

“Wait what?  Did you say Casey Novak?” The name caught Rafael’s attention.  “Yep, she’s from New York; Manhattan to be precise and once held your job. She has built a reputation down here but all good.”

 “Wait, she was disbarred for violation of the Brady rules.” 

“Yes, but that was New York and we are in South Carolina,” Valente grinned while chomping on another chunk of beef.  “And, she was censured with a suspension of her law license for a few years.  Besides, from what I’ve heard, she’s done a helluva job so far.”

 “Seems South Carolina is where Manhattan ADAs go to pasture.”

 “I don’t exactly see you griping right now.”

 “Only about the heat, humidity, and sudden deluge,” he clapped back.  
  
“Says the man who accepted a job in Charleston.”

“Touché, Valente.”

 The pair ate in a comfortable silence as the next round of late summer thunder roared over the peninsula.  Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he had taken in a relaxed meal without worry about work or one of SVU hollering for a warrant or a defense attorney calling in desperation, attempting a Hail Mary to save their client from life in prison or take the death penalty off the table.

 “So, you think she’ll says yes?”  
  
“I’m not a Magic 8 Ball, Barba, but I would say ‘Signs Point to Yes.’” 

 Valente polished off his drink before adding, “You sound like a 16-year-old wanting to ask the girl he has a crush on out.  Grow a damn set and ask her to dinner already.”

 “You have a way with words, Valente.”

 “One of my many talents,” the blonde just beamed.   

* * *

 

Translations:

Fuck ou – Fuck you                                                                                                                                         

Mèsi Bondye – Thank God Si mwen wè l 'mwen pral koupe voye boul l', li ba yo manje gators yo – If I see him, I will cut off his balls and feed them to the gators.


	7. A Hangover, Coffee, and Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex reels from her poor decision the night before to find she has a house guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a filler chapter but Alex is slowly warming up to our favorite prosecutor.

Rafael awoke to what sounded like someone gagging or experiencing the dry heaves; and that sound was coming from across the hall in Alex’s room.  Valente had failed to mention he would be across the hall from the object of his growing affection, but did that really matter?  The clock read 5:14 AM as he shook the last bits of sleep away.

Throwing back the blanket, his feet landed on the sturdy planks of pine and carried him across the hall.  He carefully poked his head in, spying the bathroom light on and door open. 

“Marshal?  You okay?”  He treaded with caution. 

“Barba!?  What are you doing in my house?!”  Her words followed by a series of hard gags, then heaving, with the ensemble completed with splashing and cussing. 

“Valente asked if I wanted to say.  The King Tides are in full force and I would’ve been trapped at my place.”

The toilet flushed.  Alex leaned back then slumped against the wall.  Her haggard appearance a far cry from the cold stone persona she wore.

“Yeah, they can be a real pain in the ass down here on the peninsula.  Last time I got stuck by them was Tybee Island as the only highway connecting it to Savannah was under three feet of sea water.  Don’t you have those in New York?”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t have to worry about being stuck in my apartment or getting to work.”

“Welcome to Charleston, Counselor,” Rafael hovered in the doorway, keeping his distance.  She turned her head and spotting him standing there, in her room, in nothing but sleep pants and an old Harvard shirt no less.  He looked down with deep concern at her pathetic state.  Their eyes locked for several moments, neither one speaking but letting emerald and turquoise rings convey their words. 

“Fuck,” Alex turned face back into the bowl, her guts retaliating for her stupidity the night before.  Now, all that was coming up was bile and stomach acid.  Rafael dropped behind her, keeping her hair up and back as her body continued to contract then repel.  He didn’t judge as he had a few bad run ins with booze in his time, instead running a soothing hand up and down her back.  Damn, if that didn’t feel good.

“I’m sorry, you have to see me like this.  I’m pathetic.”  Her accent was more prominent in this post-drunken state.  It had also been distinct in her stupor. 

“No, not really,” he disagreed.

“No, I threw a fucking pity party for myself last night and I’m sure I said something stupid or worse.”

“You said a lot in Creole when you passed out,” he omitted the detail about her saying her dead husband’s name. 

“My native tongue,” she sighed.  “Like I said, it was my first language.   Jezi Kris mwen vrèman te fè yon manman bourik nan tèt mwen.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I like it when you talk in Creole.” 

“Mèsi, Barba,” Alex tried to laugh but it hurt.  She hurt everywhere and felt like she was dying. 

 “Please, call me Rafael.”

 “Thanks, for not rubbing in my poor life choice, Rafael.  And, drop the Marshal’; just call me Alex.” She rested her forehead on the edge of the bowl, reaching up to flush.  Rafael’s hand didn’t cease the slow methodic strokes and Alex took a deep breath, hoping this was the last round. 

 “I have Nauzene in the medicine cabinet and Ibuprofen is next to it.  I think this was the last huzzah.” Alex swore her brain was going to burst through her skull.  Still, it was nothing compared to her worst migraine days.  She braced her hands on the bowl, pushing up on shaky legs.  Her arms trembled and felt like dead weights. “Here,” Rafael quickly lowered the seat and lid, guiding her to sit.  He fished through the cabinet, locating both remedies with ease.  First, he passed the Nauzene over which she chomped down 3.  The cherry flavor tasted like day old trash that had been sitting in the sun on her fried taste buds.  A few minutes later, he passed over an Ibuprofen and small amount of water.  Alex gingerly sipped the water, taking a few moments between to let her stomach settle. 

 “You are going to need breakfast.” 

“Yeah, like that’s gonna sit well.  Coffee and a hot shower is all I need.” 

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m sure there’s something downstairs.  You’re just making excuses.” 

“I’m going to shower,” she waved him out.  “Go see if Valente is up.”  

* * *

 

Alex braced herself against the wall the entire time she stood beneath the steady steamy jets.  Her headache was subsiding which was half the battle.  She debated staying at the office as there were aset of security plans needing her attention.  One of the joys of being a Marshal: Making sure local public health and emergency management agencies have their Strategic National Stockpile dispensing sites’ security plans updated and identify potential flaws or issues.  It would be tedious but quiet work, and she could compose herself after making a drunken fool of herself in front of Rafael. 

  _Wait, I’ve made a fool of myself in front of the team and V, but, didn’t kick myself in the ass repeatedly the following day.  Why am I so concerned about what Rafael thinks?  He’s just a colleague and nothing more._

She inhaled a final time before killing the water and flinging the shower door open.   Alex walked out into her room and stopped.  There, on her now made bed, were some clothes laid out for her.  A tiny smile cracked her lips while she dried off and changed. 

* * *

 “So, she didn’t freak out when you showed up in the bathroom?”  Valente was pleasantly surprised at Rafael’s revelation.

 “No, she asked what I was doing here but it was out of curiosity rather than agitation. She didn’t get mad when I held her hair and rubbed her back either.”

 Valente let out a low whistle.  “This is good, Barba.  You’ve made a dent in the armor.” “Let’s hope so.” 

Alex was slow in descending the stairs; determination with a hint of stubbornness to keep the nausea from resurging. The coffee was a welcome presence upon her nose, easing the olfactory nerves from the stench of vomit and bile.  She could hear Valente and Rafael talking, probably at the breakfast nook; probably talking about her.    

* * *

 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Valente caught sight of Alex’s slightly staggering form entering the kitchen.  “It seems the King Tides were a bit higher than anticipated as a part of our street has sea water over it.”

“Damn, this is a bad one,” she dropped in the seat, not realizing it was next to Rafael.  “Guess Dean and Lisa will be waiting for the tide to recede and Cole is probably riding it out too.  Water keeps getting higher and higher; but, oh wait, it’s a hoax according to the fools in D.C.” 

She looked over to Rafael who slid a mug brimming with a Blonde blend towards her.  “See, here in Charleston, the peninsula is a bit smaller than Manhattan giving us bigger problems with tides and storm surge.”

“Speaking of which,” Valente sighed, “They’re watching the Atlantic. There are some waves that are getting their shit in gear and could be tropical storms by day’s end.”

“Well, one, it’s September, which is peak season; and two, we’re in South Carolina.  I just hope we don’t have any Cat 3 or worse rip through.  Adds a degree of difficulty when serving warrants or attempting to track perps out in the swamps.  Although, it would be such a shame if the annual gala were to be cancelled.  Then I wouldn’t have to see that jackass, Dick Roman.”

“Wait, swamps?”  Rafael’s ignorance made the other two erupt in laughter.  “What?”

“Despite the urban development, there are still massive tracts of swamp, forests, and marshlands in South Carolina.  The Francis Marion National Forest is just up the road; home to copperheads, water moccasins, gators, coral snakes and Eastern diamondback rattlesnakes among other creatures.  Each of those damned things have tried taking bites out of all of us too.  I can’t tell you how many times I came face to face with a damned rattler,” Alex shook her head.  “Growing up, Uncle Benny always warned me about the creatures of the swamps in Louisiana and then here.  They have to be respekte or respected as we are the invaders in their world.”

“The worst I had to worry about was the neighborhood bully growing up,” Rafael absorbed this information, eager to learn more about her or at least her world. 

“The Kreyòl and Cajun peoples learned early to fear and revere Nature.  They adapted to Nature instead of Nature being forced to adapt to them.  Sure, most Kreyòl are associated with the cities like New Orleans and Baton Rouge, but there are those, like my family, who chose Nature over city.” 

“What’s Kreyòl?”  Rafael couldn’t get the pronunciation right, but Alex knew what he meant. 

 “Creole.” 

“If you haven’t figure it out by now, Alex likes to speak with both languages.”  Valente heard the toaster pop and went to fetch the slightly brown slices. 

 “And sometimes I do the same with Spanish and English; it’s quite amusing when using it around bigots and others who are less than thrilled at the presence of a Cuban-American prosecutor.” 

 “I’ve had a few tell me to ‘Go back to the country I came from’ when I speak in Creole to Uncle Benny.  Usually they’re punk ass kids who are parroting what Fox News or their parents vomit out.  Valente keeps me from full blown raging bitch but don’t worry, Karma always catches up to them.”

 Alex smiled at Valente as though the pair were sharing some inside joke. 

 “Nothing illegal, right, Alex?”  Rafael raises an eyebrow in her direction.  

“Us?  Do something illegal?”  Valente scoffed and feigned hurt.  “We’re Federal law enforcement, Counselor, illegal isn’t in our vocabulary.”

 “Uh huh,” Rafael finished his cup and went to refill it. 

 “Here,” Valente slid the thick slices coated with butter and cinnamon over to Alex.  “Light and easy after drinking like you’re still in your 20s.” 

 “Faché,” Alex mumbled before nibbling at one slice.  “I’m going to stay in the office today.  I think it’s best I not be there during the rest of the trial and gamble running afoul of Judge Turner again.”

 “Again?  You’ve gotten on Judge Turner’s good side more than once huh?”

 “Oh yes,” Alex sighed.  “And as you witnessed yesterday, Adler has too; though he holds that record.” 

“But he seems like a nice guy.  I can’t imagine how he could do so,” Rafael rolled his eyes.   

“He’s a man of many talents,” Valente chimed in.   

“So, when you say Dick Roman, are you referring to –“ “The one and only U.S. Senator from right here in Charleston; who also happens to be my half-brother,” Valente rolled his eyes so hard he swore he could see the back of his skull.

 “The great ‘conservative champion’ of the Gross Old Pervert party,” Alex made a face.  “He goes out of his way to hunt me down at that damned thing.”

 “What gala?”  Rafael’s ears perked up. 

 “A waste of time and loss of a perfectly good night drinking at home,” Alex rubbed her temples.  “It’s bad when it’s an election year.  All the elit come out dressed up, attempting to gain some slim pathetic favor with judges, attorneys, and politicians.  As Uncle Benny says, it’s bagay moun fou.” 

“The Charleston upper crust parade around in overpriced dresses and tuxes while throwing back overpriced champagne and talking shit about others.  It’s high school but worse.”

 “And your estipid brother won’t leave me alone unless I threaten to cut off his balls and throw them to the sharks.  He’s nothing more than a pretty face for a bunch of old, hateful, white guys who bemoan the loss of the ‘good ol’ days.’”

 Rafael realized there was no love lost there and was internally relieved.   “Tell us how you really feel, Alex,” Rafael chuckled. 

“We’d be here all day, Counselor,” she offered a humorless smile. 

“Could very well be if the tides don’t recede soon,” Rafael noticed the text on his phone.  “Looks like the trial is being delayed until this afternoon.”

“Must be really bad around the courthouse to have that happen.” 

“Late start, good; I’m so over this hangover.  So how many more witnesses do you have left?  I mean, it’s only been day one.”

“Adler disclosed his list and it’s got names on there I don’t recognize.  Maybe you two can shed some light for me?”

“Sure,” Valente nodded.  “Maybe Henricksen can help out too.  I’ll call him.”

Alex simply sipped her coffee while Rafael retrieved the list.  Her stomach was feeling lighter, thanks in part to the Nauzene and the early morning purge.  The headache continued to wail like Tommy Lee at a Motley Crue concert, but she’d rather have the headache as at least she can keep down food. 

Valente snapped the paper from Rafael and proceeded to assess Adler’s lineup. 

“A couple of them ring a bell, Counselor, but the rest, I’m not too familiar with.  The ones I marked with a pen may be CI’s.  I’ll ask Henricksen to run the names.”

“Alex,” Rafael passed it over.  Her fingers drummed along the oak surface while her eyes scanned the names. 

“One,” she tapped a name that was next to last on the list. “This one here, I’ve heard before.  A while back we served a warrant on a guy smuggling drugs and wildlife, both living and parts.  When he was being interviewed, he slipped and said that name.  Only reason I remember was because the dolt was freaking out about being shanked or blown up in a car bomb.  We thought it was the ravings of a paranoid weasel, but, turns out, he wasn’t.  Bastard got shanked in the shower.”   

“How unfortunate,” Rafael sighed with heavy sarcasm. 

“Yeah, that’s what we said,” Alex shrugged. 

“You seem to be improving after a little coffee and toast.”

“Yeah, well, the battle of the bands is raging in my head still.”

Alex shifted in her seat then peered into now empty mug before speaking back up. 

“Thanks, for earlier in the bathroom.  It was kind of nice not having to hold my own hair back while heaving my guts out.”

“Alex, it was no problem.  Look, I know you’re not most accessible person, but I wasn’t going to let you suffer either.” 

“Still,” she sighed, keeping her eyes down. 

Rafael accepted what he could get out of her.  Seven years of keeping emotions close to the vest weren’t going to be reversed with a few nice gestures.   He simply observed her, working through the second slice of toast.  As much as he would like to see her give Adler the evil eye in court, she needed a break. 

“Thank you, for letting me crash here with the King Tides and all.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex finally lifted her head, showing a hint of brightness in listless cyan.  “No one has stayed here in a long time; except for Kevin when he comes down for the occasional weekend and breaks.”

“Your home is beautiful.  Is this all original?” Houses like this didn't exist on Manhattan; at least not in great numbers anymore.  Most had been demolished to make way for "progress."  There were some on Staten Island and Long Island which remained defiant and continued to exist alongside modern monstrosities and other structural curiosities. Most were preserved within the National Park System under the National Parks of New York Harbor system.  Had it not been for that, those structures may have shared the same doomed fate.

“Most of it.  200 plus years takes a toll on certain materials; especially with tropical storms, hurricanes, and other curveballs Nature hurls at us.  Hugo really beat us up in ’89.  The water was up to the chest on the first floor.  Uncle Benny and Aunt Andrea came up to help clean and restore the place.  It’s been in the family since it was built back in 1788.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize it was that old.”

“Dad’s side came up from the Caribbean a few years after the initial site upriver was established.  Mom’s side is the Kreyòl which thrives in Louisiana.  That side has French and Chitimacha.  How about you?”

_I do enjoy listening to her speak and learning more about her._

“Cuban,” Rafael shrugged.  “I mean Cubans are descended from Spanish, African, and Taino peoples.  But, I’m nothing special; not like you.”

Alex snorted and sadly shook her head.  “I’m nothing special.”

“I beg to differ.” 

“Oh really?”  She leaned back and crossed her arms. 

“Really.  You’re one of the youngest appointed to a Marshal position; I know, I looked last night.  That’s no small feat.  You speak several languages.  You have a best friend who has nothing but respect and love for you.  And love as in brotherly.  You raised an incredible son from what I hear and that is not easy, raising a son as you did.  I wouldn’t be able to do that.  It takes a special breed of person to accomplish what you have.  Not many women are kicking down the DOJ’s door to be a Marshal.”

“It’s part of why I wanted to be one.  Growing up, I wasn’t the cheerleader or popular girl.  I was the one kicking bullies in the shins on the playground.  I didn’t fit in that other world.  Hell, once, I got suspended in high school for a week because the captain of the squad was being a total bitch to V and I put her in her place, at lunch, in front of everyone.  It was so worth the mark in the permanent record.”

“Remind me not to be a jerk to Valente or else I will suffer the wrath of Alex .”

Alex attempted to suppress a laugh, but it came out like a sneeze.  The banging on her brain was now a dull roar. 

This had been a rather interesting morning to say the least.

* * *

 

Translations:

Jezi Kris mwen vrèman te fè yon manman bourik nan tèt mwen – Jesus Christ I really made an ass of myself Kreyòl – Creole 

Faché – Piss off

Elit – Elite

Bagay moun fou – foolishness

Estipid - Asshole

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henricksen and Alex have a small heart to heart.  
> Benny meets Rafael (FINALLY) and is not disappointed.   
> Alex REALLY likes how Rafael dresses  
> Rafael and Valente bond (I know, scary, right?)  
> Rafael makes a few admittances to Valente

The rain resumed its steady cadence against the windows as Alex stretched in her seat. So far, she succeeded in getting through three sets of plans which was a miracle.  Her mind had drifted despite her eyes being focused on the job before her; drifted to a certain Federal prosecutor.  It was nice, the conversation they shared in the kitchen earlier that morning despite the raging hangover.  Alex had caught the expression that darkened his face at mention of Valente’s half-brother.  It would’ve really gone dark if he knew about their history.  But nothing was there, not anymore anyways.  And what had been there was long dead in the past as that bridge had been set afire with a series of explosives that detonated on both ends and in the middle while gasoline was dumped on the fiery remains. 

The gang was at the courthouse, determined to remind Adler they were watching.  The young woman, Kristi or Ruby or whatever name she went by was supposed to testify today.  While she desired to be there, Alex knew it was smarter to stay out of Judge Turner’s line of fire.  And, Adler could be the recipient of any ire from the cranky judge.  Which reminded her, she needed to make a stop after work. 

“Keeping out of harm’s way, I see,” Henricksen hovered in the doorway.  A sympathetic glance dominated his features.

“Wouldn’t you?” Alex sighed and set her reading frames down. 

“Yeah, especially with Turner at the helm.”

“Come in, take a seat.  Why aren’t you at the circus from Hell?”

“Came to see how you were holding up,” the older man took the chair across from her.

Alex simply shrugged.  “I got angry; very angry.”

“Understatement, Alex.  You went for Adler.” 

“And I’m thankful I wasn’t led out in cuffs either.  I’m sure Turner had it as an afterthought.”

“I worry about you,” he finally said it.  “I have since that night.  You and I have worked together for a long time.  You’re not just a colleague but family.”

“And I’m still standing.”

Victor simply gave her one of his “that’s bullshit” looks.  “Is that what you tell yourself, Alex?”

“It works.”

“Yeah, if you’re an emotionless robot.”

Alex cast him a warning glance, but Victor wasn’t deterred as he threw his own “you know I’m right” look in her direction. 

“Look, Victor, being this way, keeping everyone at an arm’s length and being closed –“

“Keeps the world out, blocks the pain and suffering; it’s so much simpler to forget.”

“I don’t block it, Victor.  I use it as fuel for the hunt.  When we’re out there flushing out the prey, hunting the POS down, whoever it happens to be that day.”

Henricksen sighed.  Alex’s denial was deeper than he thought.  But he knew what was approaching.  It was always harder for her around that time and everyone could see it.  Her mood would grow darker than usual including triggers that would be unnoticeable to everyone else but to Alex, it would take her back to that night.

 Once, Lisa had found her cowered under her desk, curled up in a fetal position, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.  She spent the next two hours sitting beside her, slowly walking her superior back to the present.  Lisa had promised not to tell anyone but confided in Valente and Henricksen, knowing they wouldn’t say anything and shared a mutual concern.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he shook his head sadly before leaning across the desk and squeezing her hand. 

* * *

 

The testimony had been tenuous at best.

Rafael was thankful the day was over.  Adler had been merciless in his cross, determined to undermine the character and credibility of the young woman.  But she refused to yield, remained steadfast and recounted every painful, traumatic detail right down to the description of the urine and blood soiled sheets with complimentary cigarette holes from the constant stream of misses to leave marks on her flesh; a pale canvas for their pleasure.

He had caught himself briefly glancing towards the section the Marshals were seated, reminding himself Alex had opted out of the day’s festivities. 

“Counselor,” Valente caught up.  “Counselor wait up.”

“Agent, what can I do for you?”

“Interested in catching a drink?  I know a place not far from here.  It’s low key and is popular with cops, firefighters, EMTs and certain Federal marshals.”

“Really?” 

Valente smiled, knowing he had Barba’s attention. 

“Really,” the blonde nodded.  “I’m sure she’ll be there after her self-imposed exile from the courthouse today.”

Rafael could use a new watering hole after moving.  It was always one of two places when he was in Manhattan, but this was Charleston. 

“Alright,” he acquiesced. 

* * *

 

“Bondye mwen gade tankou kaka!”  Benny greeted his niece as she parked her tired ass at the bar.  “Mèsi pou konpliman an,” Alex narrowed her eyes until they were a pair of turquoise slits.   “So, how did it go today?”   “Dunno, I was at the office.  I erred on the side of caution.” “Wise decision,” he slid a pint across the bar.   “Valente said he would be here after court adjourned.”  Alex took a drink.  It was a local pilsner.   “Oh, good!” Benny went to help another customer.   

Alex savored her drink and watched the people around her.  Some of them she knew were cops or firefighters unwinding after shift or their day off.  The various patches and memorabilia adorned the walls and space behind the bar: FBI, Marshal, CPD, CFD, county sheriffs, state troopers (courtesy of Donna), and some military graced the 200 plus year old walls. 

“See?  I told you she’d be here.”

Alex spun around to see Valente walking up with Rafael beside him.  Her heart briefly stopped at sight of him.  His attire for today’s proceedings was dark navy suit with pencil thin periwinkle stripes and grey-blue button up shirt beneath.  She assumed the waist coat matched as she came to realize he was three-piece suit type of man.  The lighting enhanced the random streaks of grey which he either ignored or had not colored yet.  He did know how to dress that much was certain. 

“I see you brought a date,” she smirked before taking another drink. 

“Ha ha,” Valente rolled his eyes.  “I see a day away from the drama did you some good.”

“I got some menial tasks done,” she shrugged. 

“So, this is the bar her uncle owns,” Rafael craned his head and neck around to get a better view as he peeled the jacked off. Guiry’s reminded him of the old hangouts in New York.  This was the kind of place he could see the old squad congregating in after a hard case.  He suspected the same happened here for Alex’s team. 

Alex’s assumption proved right as the waist coat matched the pants and jacket.

_Why did he have to look so damn good in everything he wore? UGH!_

“Yep, and said uncle is right there,” Alex hitched a thumb in Benny’s direction. 

“Hey, Benny!” Valente hollered from the opposite end.  Benny jerked his head and spied Rafael talking with Alex.  The old Creole hurried towards the trio as his brain registered who was there. 

“So, this is the new Federal prosecutor who has been getting under my niece’s skin!” A weathered but warm hand shot out.  “Benjamin Lafitte; but everyone calls me Benny.” 

“Rafael, Barba.  I didn’t realize I had that effect on Alex.”  A hint of amusement laced his tone. 

Benny couldn’t believe it.  He was standing right before him.  His niece’s matche.  Oh, how Andrea was going to love hearing about this!  

Alex just groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Really, Uncle Benny?”

“Well, you did say he was a pain in the ass.”

Rafael noticed her face turning bright red despite the lighting.  Valente just drank, watching her squirm in her seat. 

“But you don’t have to announce it, to the guy I said it about.”

“Oh, mwen renmen anpil,” Benny chuckled.  “Clearly, Rafael here is not offended by your words.”

“I’ve been called much worse, believe me.”  He noticed Valente left the stool next to her vacant which he quickly occupied.

“And what’s your poison?” 

“Scotch.”

“I had you pegged as a whiskey man but close enough.”

“Excuse my uncle,” Alex felt the urge to apologize, “he can be……..a handful.”

“I don’t know, he seems nice.”

“Give him time,” she muttered in her half empty pint glass.

Benny whistled as he poured the drink; content at seeing the pair together.  Well, not together together but in the same room, talking.  Valente and Alex can laugh about old Creole superstition, but you can’t fight or run from fate. 

“How did it go today?” 

“Adler was up to his same tricks, but the young woman couldn’t be swayed.  She stayed true to every graphic detail and action.  Brave like another young girl who was trafficked and faced down the monster who put her through Hell.”

“I’m glad she held fast and didn’t let that POS intimidate her.  Did he piss Turner off?”

“Oh, he pushed the line a little, but Turner didn’t let loose.” 

“I’ll probably stay away again tomorrow.  I just can’t let Adler get to me; even if I’m not a witness testifying.”

“Well, could you use a break at lunch?” Rafael’s lips moved faster than his brain. 

Alex pondered her options: Eat alone in her office at her desk, again; or drag her miserable ass out and get some air and be in the company of the handsome prosecutor. 

_Did I just call him handsome?  No, you should stay in your office.  It’s worked this long; close the door, and surround myself in the sound of silence._

“I……”

“Of course, she will,” Valente cut in, knowing she was going to say no.  He was counting on her Creole upbringing, specifically manners to kick in.

“Sure,” she pursed her lips and glared cerulean daggers at her best friend.  “I know a place close to the courthouse.  It’s a few blocks and I can meet you there.  Valente knows the place.”

“Yep!  Has some of the best burgers around!”

Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“What?  Burgers beneath your culinary preferences, Counselor?”

“What? No.  It’s just I haven’t had burgers in a long time.”

“Oh, that’s right, because in Manhattan, it was fusion dining and artisan sandwiches with fancy pickles on every corner, right?”  Alex snickered. 

“Don’t listen to Alex.  This place is a favorite with everyone including courthouse personnel.  You’ll see suits, uniforms, denim, yoga pants, and workout tights mingling in line.  You’ll blend right in, Counselor.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Rafael nodded. 

“Trust me, you won’t find anything that is bad on the menu.  I’ve had everything.”

“You, Dean, and Cole,” Alex shook her head.  “It’s a miracle you three haven’t had coronaries by now.”

“Arteries of steel.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes and paid her tab despite her uncle’s objection.  “No, I pay the same as everyone else.”

“Where are you headed off to?” 

“Run an errand.” Alex shrugged Benny’s question off. 

Valente waited until she was out of ear shot to say anything.  “You can thank me later for getting her out tomorrow.”

“How did you know she wouldn’t say yes?”

“Oh, that is the thing about being raised Creole,” Benny chuckled, “manners.”

“Wait, she almost killed Adler.”

“Rafael,” Benny didn’t hesitate to use his first name, “there is a line between manners and justification to kick someone’s ass when warranted.  Adler was a justification; especially in his attack against my niece on the stand.”

“Remind me to never piss Alex off; intentionally anyways,” Rafael finished his drink and Benny offered a second round.  “This one is on the house.”  

Rafael was a bit stunned at the gesture.  The only time he didn’t pay for his drinks was well…….

He couldn’t recall. 

“Do you always give random people free drinks?”

Benny simply laughed.  The man’s chest echoed with the hearty bellowing which originated deep within. 

“No, just pain in the ass attorneys and Federal agents.”

Valente replied with a hard roll of his eyes. 

* * *

 

Alex simply sat in the seat.  Her hands, no wait, her entire body was shaking.  The day was 48 hours away.  It happened every year since it happened. She would sleep in small breaks of 30 minutes, an hour if she was fortunate then spend the waking minutes sitting on the couch with a bottle of whatever was closest.  She envied Valente for sleeping or if he was faking it, he fooled her.  But then again, when she did, her visions were tormented and mind flooded with every shriek, scream, and above all, the cruel mocking laughter of them.   Then the migraine would announce its arrival by stabbing her abdomen with sharp agonizing waves that culminated into purge upon purge until all she could muster was bile. 

Did this ever end? 

Her self inflicted tormented musings were broken by her phone pinging.

_I’ll be home tomorrow.  Got ahead with assignments._

Her face cracked a tiny smile.  Kevin would be home.  Valente would be elated as would Uncle Benny.  Kevin had been surrounded by love growing up and continued to be surrounded by love.

_Okay, Sweetie.  Be careful coming down. Love you._

Alex took a deep breath before willing herself out of the Jeep and up the short walk to the front door. 

* * *

 

“Here, Counselor,” Valente nudged the tumbler over.  “I think you can have one last round before calling it a night.”

“I don’t-“

“Nope, you don’t turn away Creole hospitality,” the blonde argued.  “If you do, it’s considered extremely rude.”

“He’s right,” Benny nodded while sweeping a bar towel across the wood.  “When our zansèt arrived in Louisiana, we brought our language, our culture, and more importantly, our culinary skills.  We did not turn anyone in need away; not even those who sought liberation and emancipation.”

Rafael was intrigued.  He was ignorant to the Creole people.  Hell, growing on Jerome Avenue in the Bronx, he didn’t see much diversity.

Benny could see he had captured Rafael’s undivided attention.

“Well, growing up in the Bronx, someone coming in asking for help could’ve been a rouse.  We didn’t exactly welcome strangers with arms wide open.”

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

 “So, I noticed,” Rafael smirked.

“We don’t have a subway, but we do have a pineapple fountain.”

“Such a consolation, Valente,” Rafael rolled his eyes.  “A monument to Sponge Bob.”

“Hey, you took the job and moved here.”

“Touché.”

Benny wished Alex had not left.  While he thought of Valente as a son, Valente wasn’t the one he dreamed of being Rafael’s matche.  Besides, Rafael would probably strangle him after a week, if that.  But his father had warned him about rushing such things.  It was best to let it take its course and not question the intentions of fate.  His niece was not going to open up to Rafael on a whim though they had seen several cracks in the wall she had constructed around her soul.  While Benny didn’t place full stock in the soulmates idea that some swear was real, the idea of a matche had more realism.  It wasn’t always love at first sight or even liking the person initially; Hell, some first meetings had ended badly though later that contempt evolved into desire and eventually love.  Soulmates, pfft!  That was a damn gimmick to push horrid pieces of literary trash that were passed as “romance novels.” 

“Fatra,” he muttered.

“Did you say something?”  Rafael caught the rumbling beneath his breath.

“No, just an old man rambling to himself.” 

Rafael replaced his half-emptied tumbler on the bar then reached for his phone.  He had Alex’s number for work reasons but after that night at her house, he felt compelled to reach out based on concern for a colleague. 

* * *

 

Not even five feet out of the bathroom and her phone was buzzing.  But heavy lies the head as she had been told before.  Snatching the irritating device off the stand, it wasn’t the notification that caught Alex off guard but who it was from.

_Hi, it’s Rafael.  Just seeing if you were okay.  You left out in a hurry.  Are you sure you still want to meet us for lunch tomorrow?_

Alex tapped her finger on the screen.  Did Valente put him up to this? Yep, Valente did.  Still, she wasn’t going to be rude and ignore the reply she was certain Rafael was waiting for. 

_Yeah, I’m fine.  Like I said I had to run an errand.  And yes, I will be there tomorrow._

She was so kicking Valente’s ass.

* * *

 

“She’s going to think I’m behind you sending that text and I already know she is plotting to kick my ass.”

“Well, I’ll tell her you had nothing to do with MY decision to send that text.”

“You don’t know Alex, Rafael.”

“Well, I’d like to.  I mean, she isn’t exactly open but she’s passionate and beautiful and……”

“Really?  Despite her rather standoffish introduction which happened just over a week ago?  Or the fact she isn’t exactly looking to dive headfirst into the dating pool?”

“Valente, I once saw the world in black and white until I worked in SVU.  The CO, Lt. Olivia Benson, opened my eyes and heart to the existence of reds, blues, greens, yellows, and yes greys.  From what I have seen of Alex, she is me.”

“Compounded with the trauma of a deadly home invasion which left her a widow, unable to bear children, and PTSD with the idea that shrinks are dicks.  Oh, and she will tell you she uses the anger, pain, and rage to energize herself on the job.  It drives her to be what you see out there on the hunt so to speak.”

“And there is that other side.  We saw it, in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, we did.  To be honest, I miss that.  I miss the old Alex; the Alex who would laugh and smile.  The Alex who used to tell me stories about Louisiana and invited me over when her Aunt Andrea made stuffed grape leaves in summer.  I know Kevin misses it dearly.”

“Her son, right?”

“Yeah.  You’ll meet him.  He’s a great kid.  I think he’ll like you seeing as you succeeded in stirring some emotions awake.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  Bondye mwen gade tankou kaka – My god you look like shit
> 
> Mèsi pou konpliman an – Thanks for the compliment
> 
> mwen renmen anpil – my dear
> 
> zansèt – ancestors
> 
> fatra - garbage


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in court......  
> Another member of the family pops up......  
> More of Alex's inner thoughts about Rafael......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank those of you who have bookmarked, posted kudos, or commented. I ALWAYS love the support!!!   
> I PROMISE Alex is cracking. Consciously she may not be aware of it but subconsciously.......

Barba secretly hoped the first half the day flew by.  Adler had continued to parade his list of so-called expert witnesses through Turner’s court which clearly agitated said judge.  Video footage that established Heyerdahl in Paris and Charleston involved in trafficking related activities at the least, had been brought into question.  Rafael rebutted the alleged expertise with FBI technical experts including testimony of an informant who was now in witness protection thanks to the death threats and attempted assassination. 

“There was no way this video was doctored or altered.  We examined every inch; every millisecond of the footage provided and did not uncover any indication of splicing or altering. We subjected the video to all of the available tests and had our senior technicians review it.  The surveillance of the defendant is legitimate.”

Rafael had an independent expert waiting to testify if Adler attempted to discredit the technician. 

“Agent Smith, I see you had been placed on administrative leave 5 years ago because of claims a tape of a rape had been altered by your department to make the suspect in question look guilty of the crime; is this correct?”

“Yes, but that was proven-“

“But there was evidence of adulteration.”

“Yes, there was, but again it was proven –“

“And you were the senior technician in charge of that evidence correct?”

“Yes.”

“Your honor, is there a point to the questioning here?”  Rafael raised an eyebrow.  Valente, Henricksen, and Morris’s faces darkened at this.  This was ancient history.  Their man did nothing wrong.

“Get to the damn point, Mr. Adler.”

“I am, Your Honor,” Adler spoke up.  “At any time was the supposed video of my client not in your custody and could’ve been possibly accessible to someone who wanted to tamper with it?”

“No.  It was maintained in strict custody from collection to now.”

“Could’ve it been tampered with by anyone in your department or agency?”

“The only way it would be ‘tampered with’ as you claim is someone would have to break into the evidence room, take the tape, and doctor it.  This is not possible as all FBI evidence is contained in bags or containers that have tape or locks that when opened cannot be resealed unless placed in a new bag.”

“Is it possible this happened?”

“It’s highly unlikely.”

“But someone could do it IF they knew how to work the system as in accessing evidence and replacing it in new containers or seals.”

“They could, though now they have ways to detect such after an incident in which a rogue agent did something very similar to ensure a suspect was found guilty.  I am not at liberty to say what as that is policy to not disclose such methods to anyone outside the agency.”

Rafael smirked.  He suspected Heyerdahl may have had a mole or someone being paid more than their Federal salary to tamper with evidence.  The trio behind him would see into that matter.  

“No more questions,” Adler sensed he wouldn’t get far with the witness now. 

“It’s about 11:30 so let’s break for lunch and resume at 1:00 PM.”  Turner needed the long lunch, rather, eye that bottle Johnny Walker Black Label that greeted him on his desk when he arrived this morning. There was no need to guess as to who had left it.  Marshal Koch was attempting to get back into his good graces after her little scene.  Well, she could squirm just a few days more.  It would do her some good to cool her heels.

* * *

 

Alex stared at the screen as she waited for everyone.  Her finger tapped the side of her phone, uncertain what or if to respond. 

_The gala is in a few weeks.  I’ll be attending.  I hope we can catch up._

Why had she not blocked his number?  Wait, because it was out of professional courtesy and also, he was a fucking Senator who could make hers and Valente’s lives Hell.  Why did Valente have to be cursed with him as a brother!?  Ever since high school…….

“Hey!”  Rafael caught the slightly distressed expression on her face. 

“I know that look,” Valente grumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“My brother, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Hey,” Alex shoved her phone in her pocket. 

“Should I ask?”  Valente offered a genuine sympathetic look.

“I was hoping he would miss the gala but the bastard plans on being there and ‘hopes to catch up.’”  The deep sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed.  “I should throw his ass in the Cooper River.”

“He’d enjoy the manhandling too much.”

“Well, let’s head in.  The rest of the gang should be here soon,” Valente swung the door open.  Alex headed in with Rafael right behind her.  He trained his stare on her upper body, noting how rigid her posture was as they proceeded in.  He spied her arms tense then relax, providing a hint of her physical prowess as ripple and waver gave way to definition.  Of course, after what she had been through, it made sense.  He was familiar with coping mechanisms victims used including the increase of physical strength and endurance; a way to show they would never be a victim again.  In Alex’s case, being a Marshal was the perfect niche: She carried a weapon at all times, was probably a good shot, and used that same physique to take down multiple perps as she did with Heyerdahl. 

* * *

 

Sure enough, the entire gang was seated at the largest table open.  Alex so craved whiskey or bourbon but drinking on the clock was the last thing she needed to be caught doing so she chose the smart road and Diet Coke was her “poison.” 

“Hello, beautiful,” Dean wiggled his fingers as he prepared to feast upon the monstrosity Alex called “The Bypass Special.”  It was two pathetic slices of Texas Toast which burst with a half-pound of brisket, no less than 4 thick smoked slices of bacon, caramelized onions, Andouille sausage sliced lengthwise, house sauce with minute traces of Carolina reaper pepper, which was drizzled between every layer and crack, grilled peppers or sauerkraut or both, sliced jalapeno, and because it is Charleston, a side of she-crab soup for dipping. 

“Should we have an ambulance on standby, Marshal?” Rafael swore his arteries clenched in terror.  Alex rolled her eyes.  Lisa simply shook her head.  Valente eyed it like he would a beautiful woman while Henricksen and Morris winced. 

“I’m sweating just sitting next to you, Dean,” Cole had opted for lighter fare this time.  He would’ve joined his comrade in culinary arms but didn’t feel it today. 

“Haters,” Dean happily chomped down on his greasy prize. 

“I have the Nauzene ready,” Lisa patted her pocket. 

Alex wasn’t really hungry but ordered a bowl of she-crab soup to cast the appearance of it.  She hadn’t slept the night before, instead staring at the ceiling for about 3 hours before getting up and heading downstairs and letting the embrace of darkness surround her as she sat on the couch and bonded with Johnny.  If anyone attempted to break in, she would be waiting there, ready to ship their asses to the next life. 

“You alright, Boss?”  Dean noticed her eyes were caught in the 100-yard stare. 

“Yeah,” Alex shook herself back to reality.  “I was up and down all night with the storms rolling through.”

Rafael did not buy the excuse but remained silent.  The purple crescents lining her eyes had grown richer and deeper over the last few days.  Valente and Henricksen had clued him in to the anniversary of Gadreel’s death which extracted its normal toll on her mind body and soul before departing for another year. 

“The closing arguments will be starting either today or tomorrow depending on how the rest of testimony goes.  You gonna be there?”  Rafael hoped this would get her attention. 

“Yeah, I think I will.  Pretty sure I should be off Turner’s shit list by now and I wanna hear what Adler pulls out of his ass.  He can be a great bullshitter when he wants to be so watch out.” 

“Thanks for the warning.”

“No problem,” she offered Rafael a rare smile which caused his heart to temporarily stop mid-beat.  She had a beautiful smile; it was too bad she didn’t share it more. 

“You gonna eat your soup?”  Valente eyed the untouched bowl of creamy crabby goodness.  Alex shielded her food from his hungry gaze and raised her fork, poised to strike if a hand dared reach across that table. 

“Unlike you three heathens, I prefer to taste and savor my food; not inhale it.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed faster than a summer storm. 

Alex finalized the plan reviews before returning her comments and recommendations, knowing they may not like what she had to say, but there was a reason for why she said what she did.  Then again, she wasn’t supposed to coddle these agencies’ security. 

The sudden rapping on her door abruptly pulled her from whatever musing she was forming.  Rafael was hovering in the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.  Once again, the man was sharply dressed, and the pants were slightly snug in conspicuous places.  She wondered if that was supposed to be for her benefit or a simple case of pants not being cut equal.  Still, it wasn’t entirely bad either.

“Plan on working late?” 

“No, Kevin is due in tonight.”

“Kevin, he’s your son, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be on my way then.  I was going to head to your uncle’s place for a drink and was going to see if you were interested in joining me.”  Disappointment weighed his tone down. 

“Thanks for the offer but tonight is not a good night.”

_Nope, can’t let him get any closer.  Already let him in too close._

“I understand.  You have enough to contend with as is.”

“You’ve been talking to Valente or Henricksen of both,” Alex waved her hand.  “It’s not a secret what they may have told you about what happened.  It was the talk of Charleston for weeks.” 

Alex would be the occasional recipient of sympathetic glances from residents who knew her from work or from her late husband.  Once courteous salutations dampened to woeful condolences. Their gestures, while good in intention, made her feel uncomfortable.  She wasn’t feeble and she wasn’t weak; well, not anymore. 

“That must have been unbearable. I-I can’t start to fathom what happened.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re a Fed and something like that happens to you, it doesn’t get buried on page 13A of the paper,” Alex once again threw up a humorless smile; one of her damn defenses.

She leaned back in her seat, her face darkening but not in anger but rather sadness. 

“Alex, I’m sorry I even said anything.”

“Don’t, apologize.  I’m not angry at Henricksen, Valente, you, or any of the team for knowing.  It’s just a part of my life I wish not bring up.’

_No, you just suppress and avoid it because it’s easier._

Her inner voice really needed to shut the Hell up.

“Everyone is a moon has a dark side which he never shows to anybody,” Rafael sighed.

“I see you know your Twain.”

“Indeed,” a slight smile danced across his lips.  Alex admitted, to herself, he did have sexy smile.

_Just observation nothing more!  You’re allowed to make observations without attraction._

“Have a good night, Alex.”

“You too,” she sighed and let her head drop down, pretending to be focused on the stack before her.  Alex wasn’t sure when Kevin would be home, but Valente would be there to catch him.  She was certain Valente missed him more than she did though he didn’t admit such outright.

* * *

 

Rafael took his time walking down the corridor.  His eyes turned down, focused on the texts and emails he had yet to return.  He didn’t see the other person until they were colliding. 

“I am so sorry!”  The younger man apologized profusely. 

“It’s quite alright, I should’ve been paying attention.”  Rafael did a double take before his brain registered what his eyes were seeing. 

It was Kevin. 

“I was on my way to surprise my mom.  She’s working.”

“Is your mom by chance Marshal Koch?”

“Yeah,” Kevin sighed.  Finally, he was meeting this man his Uncle Benny and Valente had been talking about. He thought he would be taller.  “I’m Kevin, Kevin Tran.”

“Tran?”

“My birthname.  Mom didn’t want to change it.  It was a way to honor my birth mom.”

That was touching. 

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he offered his hand.  Kevin happily accepted and gave a firm shake. 

“Mom said you kind of drove her nuts.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.  I can take you down to her office.”

“Cool, thanks.”

* * *

 

Alex really hated paperwork.  Paperwork meant being confined to the office and not out taking down some scum lopping crap bag.  Her mind started to ponder Rafael’s offer when she sensed someone standing in her door.

“I thought you left.”

Rafael shrugged then grinned. 

“You’re smiling.  Should I be worried?”

“Depends,” he grinned wider then stepped aside.  Alex turned her head as Kevin poked his head in. 

“Hi Mom!” 

“Kevin!”  Alex’s face lit up as she rounded the desk, banging her knee in the process but ignored the sharp jolt. Rafael watched as mom and son reunited.  She looked genuinely happy.

“Mom, I can’t breathe,” Kevin squealed.  Alex released him and took in the sight of her baby boy. 

“Sorry, Sweetie.”

“I stopped home and Valente said you were here so before that I stopped in and saw Uncle Benny and Donna was there too.  She looks good.”

“Yeah, she’s working real hard at not eating her emotions and even carries salt around to douse her dessert after a few bites.”

Kevin grimaced.                                                    

“So, why aren’t you getting out of here?”  He crossed his arms and stared disapprovingly. 

“I’m the boss and that means I get the honor of all the paperwork.”

“Whatever.  Look, Rafael said you turned down his offer for a drink at Uncle Benny’s place and it better not be because I was the ‘reason’ why.”

Alex exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Kevin-“

“Nope, you need to get out of this dungeon.  If you don’t, I’m calling Victor and Valente then the Earp Gang.”

“Kevin……” she warned.

“Mom,” he returned the tone.  “Please, get out of here.  I’m here until Monday.  I’m ahead in my classes so don’t say it.”

Alex felt outnumbered.  She wanted to be alone, lost in silence and solitude but here she was, standing off against Kevin as Rafael played spectator.  She wasn’t known to back down from confrontation, but this wasn’t some criminal; it was Kevin. Her voice would refuse to rise in octave if she tried to do it.  He simply shifted his eyes, softening them to pleading rings of chocolate.  Those eyes always got to her. 

“Fine,” her lips were moving before her brain realized what she had done.

“Sweet. Now that wasn’t so bad now was it?” He tiled his head to the side, pleased at his work.

Rafael silently thanked Kevin.  He owed him.

“Ou ti kras bra,” she muttered while getting her bag. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin rolled his eyes and followed his mom and Rafael out.  “I know I’m a brat.”

* * *

 

Alex didn’t admit it outright, but it was nice to get out of the office. 

“I see my nèg yon sounwa worked his charm.”  Benny couldn’t but help to smirk. 

Alex narrowed her eyes but remained silent.  Should’ve known her uncle had a hand in this or knew about it. 

“Don’t give me that sour look.  You’re glad to be out of that wretched box you call an office.”

“Fine,” she muttered, “I’ll give you that.”

“I didn’t think my company was that bad,” Rafael teased.

“I didn’t say it was,” she relented and turned to face him.  He found himself mesmerized by her eyes.  Again, a beautiful set of deep tropical blue he wanted to lose himself in.  Yelina didn’t have eyes this stunning.  But this time, something shifted within them; there it was!  A faint sliver of light.

“If your presence was revolting, I would’ve said so the moment you walked into my office.”

“Really now?” He couldn’t but help to grin like a fool. 

“Yeah, really now.  Although I wanted to drop kick your ass that first day.  But, you’re not that bad.”

“Oh, so I graduated to ‘not that bad’ now?”

“Don’t read too much into it, Counselor.”

“Right,” Rafael whispered. 

“Oh, Alexandra, give the man a break!”  Benny bellowed.  “I think maybe it should be the other way around!  Perhaps he thought the same of you!”

“Your reverse psychology won’t work on me, Old Man.”

Rafael leaned back in his seat, watching uncle and niece trade barbs. 

“Old Man?!!?  Listen here jèn youn, I’m still your elder.”

“Yeah, Granmoun.”

“If your aunt heard you……”

“Please!  Aunt Andrea heard me call you Granmoun multiple times and she agreed!”

“W-what?!” 

“You know it’s true!”

He grumbled under his breath to which Alex couldn’t understand but suspected nothing more than the grumblings of an old Creole man. 

“Don’t you have a bar to run?”  Alex rolled her eyes as Benny went to check on other patrons.  She returned her attention to Rafael who clearly was amused by what he witnessed.   “Again, excuse my uncle.” 

“Every family has that one member.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”  

Together they sat in a comfortable silence, savoring their drinks. 

Alex was really glad she did let Kevin talk her into getting out.

Rafael was really glad Kevin convinced her into getting out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ou ti kras bra – You little brat
> 
> nèg yon sounwa – Sly little nephew
> 
> jèn youn – Young one
> 
> Granmoun – Old Ma


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more Kev, more heart to heart time for Raf and Alex, Kev hates Dick Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late but writer's block.   
> Again, thank you everyone who is following this. :)

The drive to Columbia was quiet.

There was another day of testimony before any consideration of closing arguments could begin and that would be Monday.  Everyone knew where she was going and why; well, Rafael didn’t know though she suspected Valente would clue him in.  Normally, she would be enraged but Alex only shook her head.  It wasn’t classified information of who was there but after seven years, most had forgotten they were there, resuming their daily ant like lives. 

Sometimes, Alex wished she could be one of those ants. 

But life had thrown her the middle finger. 

No, it simply didn’t throw the finger. 

Life lobbed a Molotov cocktail at her then proceeded to piss all over the smoldering remnants. 

Kevin offered to go with her which Alex vehemently refused.  He didn’t need to see this.  He didn’t need to be subjected to his mom reliving those moments as she stared _him_ down through plate glass.  The last time she was there, she lost her composure resulting in her smashing the phone against the thick layer of glass effectively destroying it.  All because the little prick sat there and smugly taunted her.  The warden had requested her presence after the little incident.  Pissed off was the lightest term to describe the warden’s displeasure with damaged property by a Federal marshal’s hand. 

Alex spied the looming guard towers breaching the tree line with each closing mile.  Her heart began to violently hammer against her sternum.  The Johnny she blended in her coffee before departing wasn’t helping to calm her nerves.  She drove on, nearing the first checkpoint.  By now, the CO’s knew her face, name, and vehicle. 

The CO’s had been alerted to her arrival as another one arrived and stood on her side of the booth.  Tensions mounted as she waited for him to be brought in.  Her gun and phone were at the visitor’s check in; security reasons of course.  Alex crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her left index finger against her elbow.  It was something to focus her mind while she waited. 

The door swung open and in stepped her query.  6 years behind bars had wore him down despite his age being 25.  His head hung down as he shuffled in with cuffs on ankles and wrists.  He refused to meet her demanding stare.  His body slumped in the aluminum chair, still downward he maintained his gaze.  He sat there. 

_The sadistic glint flashed in his rich mocha eyes while his hands tore open the oversized Carolina Hurricanes shirt she wore. Her screams and pleas only incited a cold maniacal laugh which impressed into her ears and mind._

“I don’t have time for his fucking games.”  Her anger began to rise. 

“Sorry, Marshal, but if he doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t have to.” 

“He’s enjoying this.  He’s basking in it.  Fucking son of a bitch.  He better be thanking whatever god he believes in he’s on that side right now. HEY FUCKER!!!!”

Her body shot forward before the CO realized what has happening.  Her fist pummeled the glass, startling the one who had been ignoring her. The inmate jolted upright, snapping his head up and into the enraged set of cerulean.  The CO found himself fighting to restrain Alex, quickly realizing she was a bit stronger than he assumed.  He swore he was going to need to call in backup.

“Ma’am!  Ma’am you CANNOT do that!”

Alex huffed, then relaxed and straightened herself, never pulling her hateful stare away. 

“Crazy ass bitch!” He spat back. 

He hadn’t seen crazy yet.

The CO watched warily as Alex sat back down, eerily calm as she picked up the receiver and waited.  He had seen much worse in his 10 years as a Federal CO but something about this woman scared him.  Going from enraged to chill in less than 10 seconds meant problems. 

The man picked up the receiver on his end, narrowing his eyes as he started to speak.

“Why are you here?”

Alex remained tight-lipped.

“I told you, there wasn’t anyone else.”

“Bullshit.  You mean to tell me you and you alone were able to take down a 6-foot 3 former Army Ranger?”

“Yeah, all it takes is a bullet.”

“No, not buying what you’re selling.  You must think I’m stupid.  Who are you protecting?  I KNOW there was someone else there that night.  WHO WAS IT?!?!?!?!”

“I ain’t protecting no one.  You’re crazy.” He scoffed at the idea.

“I’ve been a Federal Marshal for a long time, and I know when people lie.  Your body language screams LIES!  You’ve been holding your breath this whole time and your left index finger is tapping the counter.  Shit, you’re looking around the room intermittently even now.”

“That’s because you’re a crazy bitch.”

“You haven’t seen crazy.  So cut the shit and tell me what you know.  I DESERVE TO KNOW!”

Her rage was rapidly surfacing, reaching the breaking point.  The poor reflection did reveal her face turning bright crimson.

“Again, I don’t know what you are talking about.”

By now, Alex was shaking and not because she was cold.  Curling her fingers tighter until the tips were turning white, she flung her arm with everything she had, slamming the receiver with a violent snap.  The echo stung the CO’s ears causing him to briefly grimace.  Alex stood up, kicking her leg backward against the chair, sending it across the room.  The aluminum frame clattered against the sickly green brick.  Her body fell forward, hands bracing her trembling frame against the frigid counter.  Her breathing quickened and shallowed; her heart pounded violently.  The dull ache leached into the front of her skull. Her voice barely above a whisper as she told the CO:

“I’m done here.”

* * *

 

“That bastard.  Why do I continue to go?” 

“Oh, mwen renmen anpil,” Benny wrapped his arms around her.  “You just want the truth.  Anyone in your shoes would want that.”

“He’s covering for someone. For seven years he continues to stand by his claim he was alone.  There was a fingerprint left at the scene and it wasn’t that little prick’s. I know my memories are shot from what happened.  Damn it I wish I could just remember!”

Benny remembered the doctors telling him she may lose some of her memories; her mind would block that trauma as a protective and coping mechanism.  PTSD they said.  He knew going to that damned prison would do this to her, but what could he do?  Lock her up in his house?  Have the Earp Gang put her on lockdown? Alex continued to insist she was going to get something out of that bata but each trip concluded with nothing and her returning angry and dejected.

Alex dropped into her usual spot and Benny brought her Johnny. 

“Kevin is helping Ben with his science project but said to call him when you got home.”

“Ben loves Kevin like his big brother.  Kevin did tell me Ben was wanting to see him when got in.  I told him to go as Lisa was wanting to see him too.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she feeds him.”

“Lisa is good people.”

“Yes, yes she is.  One of the damned best deputy marshals I’ve worked with.”

* * *

 

Rafael debated about sending Alex a text. 

He wanted to see if she was okay.  She had not responded to his earlier messages.

Again, it was Victor and Valente who shed light on her whereabouts. 

_“Every damn year she goes to Columbia, determined to get something out of that little asshole.”_

_“Bad thing is Henricksen, he never cracks.  He gets off on her struggling to remember, demanding he tell her the truth.”_

_“And each year Benny calls to let us know she’s at Guiry’s after said road trip.”_

_“Wait, they have someone but he’s not talking?”_

_“Yep, Counselor, there’s a little punk ass locked up at Columbia.  Been there for seven years.  Claims it was all his doing.  Yeah, right, that little 5-foot 5 shit could take down a former Ranger.  Not to mention the fingerprint lifted and it wasn’t his.”_

_“Wait, Alex’s husband was an Army Ranger?”_

_“Yep, served in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Command Sergeant Major Gadreel Novak.”_

_“Wow.”_

_“Yeah, he was interred with full honors at Magnolia.  Alex was still in bad shape, but she wanted to say goodbye.  We brought her from the hospital and placed her in a wheelchair because she was still injured.”_

His fingers ghosted across the screen, composing his message.  Rafael paused as if hesitating but hit send anyway.

_Hey, Alex, didn’t see you today at lunch.  Closing arguments are Monday._

He saw the three dots moving and waited.

_Yeah……I was taking care of some personal business._

He wasn’t certain what to say now. 

_I’m sure you already knew what was going on.  Again, not angry for you knowing but not going to divulge._

Rafael exhaled; thankful she spoke up. 

_Wasn’t going to ask for details.  Just seeing if you were still okay._

That was LAME. Good job!

_Yeah, still vertical and breathing.  Thanks for asking._

Well, she was okay or at least she said she was.  He was sure if anything happened Valente or one of the others would be burning up the line.  So, he decided it would be good to call it a night, then work on his closing arguments over the weekend. 

* * *

 

“There she is,” Valente heard the door open then close.  Kevin was waiting up with him. 

“Uncle Benny said she was there at his place.”

“Yeah, but still, Kev,” the blonde shook his head. 

“Hey guys,” Alex dropped her keys in the bowl on the stand.  “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“Well, it’s what we do, Mom,” Kevin disagreed. 

“I appreciate it; really I do.”  Her voice was thick.  She paused in the living room where the pair had been watching a movie.   “So, what were you two watching?”

“Ghostbusters, the 1984 version,” Kevin shrugged.  “Halloween is coming.”

“Yeah, it’s coming up quick.  Guess I better stock up on the big bars again.  The kids LOVE getting those.  Pretty sure they plan their routes around our place like little strike teams.”

“You know you love seeing the kids in their costumes, Mom.”

“Yeah, I remember dressing you up one year as a Marshal because you wanted to be like me.”

“Mom…..” Kevin groaned. 

“What?  You wanted to dress up like Wyatt Earp because he was a Marshal and he fought the bad guys.  Your words.”

Alex felt her phone buzzing in her pocket.  She wasn’t sure who was texting her but with her line of work it could be anyone from the FBI, a member of the team, local PD, sheriff, or wrong number.  Out of habit, she retrieved the obnoxious device and peered down to see an unexpected message.

_Hi, just seeing if you made it home okay._

_-R_

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Kevin caught the slightly amused expression. 

“A pleasant surprise you could say.”

“Oh really?”  He traded looks with Valente then exchanged nods as if they were sharing some important secret.

“Yes, and you don’t need to concern yourself with it.”   Alex leaned over, scrubbing a hand through her son’s hair.  “So, watch your movie and I am going to sleep.”  She kissed him on the cheek before making her way towards the stairs. 

* * *

 

“Do you think it was him?” 

“Think?  We both KNOW it was him.”

“Mom doesn’t realize it but, he’s having an effect on her.  She would NEVER have gone out for a drink like the other night.  Had it been anyone else, she would’ve said no and would be the end of it.”

“It was also because you ‘pressured’ her to go.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have pressured her if it was anyone else.”

“Good point,” Valente nodded.

“Did Uncle Benny mention anything about matches getting help?  I thought if it was true, they wouldn’t need a push by someone.”

“Well,” Valente took a drink of his Coke before continuing, “he mentioned it happened a few times he was aware of and it was the universe working its majik.”

“Leave it to Uncle Benny to fall back on the old Creole beliefs.”

Valente simply chuckled. 

* * *

 

Alex was still awake. 

Johnny continued buzzing through her veins while she held her phone in her hands. 

_Gonna blame all of this on the alcohol.  Blame it on Johnny.  I would NOT be doing this sober._

For the last hour she had been talking to Rafael via text.  It was still a barrier as talking meant intimacy and inclusion leading to letting a person in.  So far, it had been shop talk which she could deal with.

_Worst case._

_Arrest warrant for a violent abuser.  Arrived to serve warrant and house exploded.  Everyone had some type of injury.  Valente took brunt with broken arm and leg when blast flung him back against our vehicle.  I had three broken ribs and sternum.  Bastard took himself, his girlfriend, and two kids out and tried taking us out with him._

_Christ_

_Yeah, real piece of work.  You?_

_Too many._

_Bull.  There has to be one._

_My trial._

_Why? You didn’t rape or murder anyone._

_Why do you say that?_

Alex took a deep breath and listened as the other end began to ring.  Why was she doing this?

_“Alex?”_

“You didn’t murder anyone.”

_“You weren’t there.  I took the life of another.”_

She could hear a slight slur in his speech.  How much had he imbibed? 

“Rafael, when a person is dying from a painful incurable disease with no hope, putting an end to their pain is not murder.  It’s compassion.”

_“So glad you can paint a rosy picture, Alex.”_

She ignored the sarcasm.

“Look, I don’t understand why you think what you did was horrible.”

_“How can you speak so simply about this?”_

“Because it’s the truth.”

_“I like your answer.”_

“Humans are peculiar creatures; the only species with the ability to overthink.”

_“Sounds like Fordham Law.”_

“Who?”

_“Carisi, one of the detectives I used to work with.  Got his law degree, passed the Bar; ALWAYS spouting something overreaching and annoying.  He drove me crazy.”_

“Wait, someone driving you crazy?  Perish the thought!”  Alex rolled her eyes though he couldn’t see her.

_“I know, it’s unthinkable.”_

Alex found having a conversation so simple highly welcoming considering……

They continued talking for another half hour; topics were random but allowed for one to get more insight into the other.  Alex talked of how Dean’s dietary choices would “make her arteries contract” and Rafael bemoaned more about Carisi and how Dean reminded him of the lanky Italian, then the conversation shifted, the topic, Liv.

“So, Liv, she’s the CO for the Special Victims Unit.”

_“Yeah.  You remind me of her.”_

“How?”

_“You don’t take any bull from anyone.  You’re both strong.  You have the admiration and respect of your teams.”_

“Thanks,” she wasn’t sure what to say.

_“I will admit you have more emotional animation.”_

“Emotional animation?”

_“Never mind.  It came out wrong.  What I was trying to say was that you display more emotion.”_

“Again, some call it anger management issues, but I appreciate the attempt.”

_“You didn’t deserve what happened to you.”_

“Yeah, so I’ve been told, Rafael.  But we play the hand we’re dealt.”

An awkward pause was shared before she spoke up again.

“Look, it’s late.  I think we should both sleep off the buzz.”  In reality, tomorrow was one of the hardest days of her life and she wanted to be left alone.  But a part of her wanted to keep him on the phone, his voice comforting.   

_“I suppose……”_

“Remember, you did nothing wrong.  Goodnight, Rafael.”

Alex set her phone down and resumed staring at the ceiling.  Sleep was a luxury.  Her mind wandered to anything but what tomorrow would bring.  She HATED the day; wished it could be skipped.  After seven years, the tears had stopped but the pain lived on.  Now instead of being up weeping past the point of tears, it was nights of peering wide eyed into the emptiness as she lay restless in a cold bed.

* * *

 

“Hey, Valente.  Why don’t we see if Rafael can come tomorrow?  Mom can use the support and Aunt Andrea will be there.”

“Already done and he said he will be there.”

Kevin smiled.  He knew his dad would’ve liked Rafael if were still alive. 

“You know, Valente, I haven’t known him long, but I do like Rafael.  There’s something about him I can’t explain but it’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, me too, Kev.”

“I hope your ass hat brother takes a hint.  He needs to leave Mom the Hell alone.  I don’t care if he is a Senator.”

“I know, Kiddo.”

“He screwed with her which of course brought her to Dad.  But then when she had to be part of his protection detail…..” Kevin paused before continuing.

“He always asks for her when he gets one.  Pisses her off and she can’t say no.” Alex always bemoaned to Kevin when she got to “babysit Dick.” 

 “Well, you won’t like this but he’s going to be here for the gala.”

Kevin rolled his eyes so hard he thought he saw the back of his skull.  “What a dick.  I hope Mom punches him in the balls or throat or both.”

Valente spat out his drink, covering the arm of the chair with a fine mist of Coke and Jack.  Kevin shrugged. 

“What? The Earp Gang, Morris, and Victor would agree along with every woman who ever had the misfortune to meet him.”

Valente could only shake his head, while pinching the bridge of his nose.  He couldn’t but help to laugh.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> mwen renmen anpil – My dear
> 
> bata – Bastard
> 
> majik - Magic


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone remembers Gadreel on the anniversary of his death  
> Alex and Rafael's evening is rudely interrupted  
> Rafael sees a hint of Alex's "talents"

The skies threatened to open as the small group made their way across the neat tidy rows of granite mingled with slate, embraced by the rich sweet-smelling emerald grounds.  The groundskeepers were vigilant, taking their duties to the fullest. 

Alex was up front; a solitary figure with the others following.  Her eyes masked with the mirrored Oakleys, concealing the somber stare.  No one spoke as they navigated the perfect rows, reaching the white granite stone three spots right of the end.  Alex clutched the bundle of wildflowers; a mixture of flowers native to her beloved Louisiana and adopted home of South Carolina.  Wild blue phlox, Louisiana iris, Spicebrush, and swamp azalea rested comfortably with aster, swamp mallow, and purple coneflower.  Gadreel had told her roses were overrated and too commercialized. 

Rafael watched as she knelt, resting her knees dead center.  Her arms were smooth in their deposit of the flowery offering. 

“Hey, it’s me and the gang,” she whispered.  “I know you thought wild blue phlox were always stunning because they the reminded you of my eyes, so I made sure they were plentiful.  We still haven’t found the rest of those bastards.  I keep trying; I refuse to give up.”

Rafael’s heart went out to her.  The normally stiff confident form was reduced to a shaking hunched bundle. 

“I won’t stop until they’re all brought to justice; to be made to answer for what they did to you and our daughter.  But I feel like hope is slipping.”

Alex covered her hands over her face, the tears streaming down her face.  Rafael felt his feet moving, carrying him forward until he was seated alongside her, finding his upper body enveloping her in a protective warm circle.  Lisa swept a few stray tears as Ben wrapped his arms around his mom.  Kevin joined his mom and Rafael, taking the side opposite from him. 

“It’s okay, Mom.  It’s okay to cry.  I miss Dad too.  I miss him every day.”

* * *

“Dude, we have to find them.  This is killing Alex.”

Cole nodded solemnly. 

“I know, Deano.  But the other DNA tests were inconclusive, and the one guy we do have isn’t exactly naming names.  We don’t have a lot of options.  All we can do is hope for a miracle.”

* * *

 Benny and Andrea watched their niece be comforted.  Rafael was saying something but what they didn’t know.  Kevin had rested his head on her right shoulder with arm wrapped around her waist. 

“I pray to the gods every day justice is finally served.”

“I know, my love.  I, too, pray to my ancestors that Alexandra gets jistis.  I am glad you made it back for her.”

“I would never miss this.  Alexandra is like our daughter.  Her pain is our pain.  Her joy is our joy.”

“You are wise, Andrea.” 

They watched, tears gathering in their eyes as Alex lived out one of the worst days of her life. 

* * *

“It hurts.  Fuck it hurts so damn much.”

“I know it hurts, Alex.  But you’re not alone in this.”

“I feel like I am.  I feel so damn alone.”

“Mom, you’re not alone.  I’m here.  Rafael’s here.  Valente’s here.”

She slid her arms around each one’s waist, pulling them tighter against her.  Each felt her body trembling as the tears began to wane.  

“I’m afraid we won’t find them, Kev.  Your father’s killers will continue to walk free.”

“Mom, the day you stop fighting is the day they win.”

“It’s why you can’t give up, Alex.  Your team hasn’t given up. Valente hasn’t given up.  Henricksen and Morris won’t give up.  I won’t give up.  But don’t do this alone.”

“We won’t quit, Mom.”

Alex lifted her head then looked at each one; her eyes marred with pencil thin trails of crimson. 

“Thank you,” she hiccup through each syllable.  

“The flowers are beautiful,” Rafael noticed the unfamiliar but exquisite bundle.  He turned to look at her, finding fresh tears pricking the corners of her eyes. 

“They’re native here and in Louisiana; roses are boring.  Gad refused to waste money on them, and wildflowers are simple but perfect.  They’re unique, like me he said,” Alex couldn’t hold it back and let the fresh deluge cascade down her face.  Her hand shot over her mouth and she leaned forward to the earth.  Rafael caught her before she could land face first into the grass.  He expected her to fight, to resist his efforts to comfort, but the opposite happened.  She turned her faced into his shoulder; tears soaking the black jacket he wore.  He turned and gently embraced her, feeling her arms lock around his mid-back. 

She took a withered breath, mentally exhausted despite the short time they had been there.  Gathering her composure, she released herself from Rafael and wiped the remaining tears away.   A few fat raindrops smacked the ground around her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alex whispered beneath her breath; head turned from Rafael. 

Kevin caught her words, knowing they weren’t for him.  Still, he couldn’t stop the tiny smile creeping up on the corners of his mouth. 

The heavens roared overhead, as if Nature or someone else was saying it was okay to go. 

Alex took a deep breath then pressed her fingertips to her lips, letting them linger a few seconds before she placed them atop the headstone. 

_Rest in peace, Gad. We love you._

“I need a damn drink,” she sighed. 

* * *

Cole and Dean had taken up the pool table on the opposite side of the room while the others were at the large table.

“I just wish we could get a break.  After 7 damn years of turning up empty……”

“Deano, we’ve seen cases stay cold for 20 years before a break.  I know you don’t wanna hear that but it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, I know, Cole.  It sucks seeing her suffer, year after year.”

Solid blue was sunk. 

“Looks like I have stripes,” Cole chuckled.  “Deano, we’re all frustrated at the lack of leads.  Until we get a break somewhere or Shawshank coughs up names, we’re stuck like wheels spinning in Alabama clay.”

* * *

A mug was placed down in front of Alex.  She looked up and made a face at her aunt. 

“This will help you feel better.”

“Is there whiskey in it?”

“No.  All that alcohol is horrible.  It’s an old mixture my family has used for generations.  It is good for the mind, body, and soul.”  Andrea wasn’t about to give in.  Her niece did not need to be throwing back shots like water.  She was in pain and needed to heal.   Alcohol only sickened her.

“Just drink it, Mom,” Kevin groaned.  “One night without alcohol won’t hurt you.”

“Fine,” she muttered and took a small sip.  She could detect hints of ironwort and something else she couldn’t put a name to.  Rafael finished his scotch, appreciative of Benny’s taste in such.  Kevin wasn’t big on drinking and preferred pop.  Valente, Henricksen, and Morris were savoring some microbrew from a local brewery. 

“How’s the tea?” Morris saw the dour look lighten after her tentative taste. 

“Surprisingly good.  Aunt Andrea can be a mother hen sometimes.”

“She is only concerned for you,” Benny placed a glass of water in front of her. 

“I know, I shouldn’t be such a brat, Uncle Benny.  I appreciate everything you both have done for me.”

“And we know you do, mwen renmen anpil.  Now, humor your aunt and drink.”

“Anyone else want some tea?  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?  Bueller?”  No takers. 

“Mom just drink it,” Kevin cast her a look. 

“Yes, Dad,” she muttered in the mug.  Alex didn’t admit it aloud, but the tea did chase the chill that had settled in her bones on the ride over; she blamed the rain.  “I see you three are rather content.”

“After the shit show that was this week, this is a well-earned reward,” Victor finished off his pint. 

“Shit show is an understatement, Victor,” Alex sighed.  He knew what she meant. 

Rafael wasn’t sure what he could say.  His abuelita had passed from natural causes; old age to be exact though he continued to harbor guilt over his behavior in the days leading to her passing.  His mother had warned him what it could do to her; putting her in one of those retirement communities would break her heart. 

“Hey, Counselor,” Valente was snapping his fingers.  “You okay over there?” 

“Yeah,” he shook his head and waved at Benny for another round.  “Just thinking that’s all, about Monday.”

“The closing arguments.  I wonder what Adler has up his sleeve for this one,” Lisa looked over, taking another swig of her beer. 

“My money is on the ‘my client is the victim of a government witch hunt’ card,” Morris snorted.  “It’s one he loves to play.”

“And one Judge Turner loathes to hear,” Alex shook her head. 

"Good.  Maybe it'll shut Adler up," Rafael started on his next round.

* * *

The rain had passed on, leaving Charleston in a comfortably cool cocoon. 

“Alex, wanna, walk?”  Rafael offered hoping she would accept.  

Alex sat in her seat, feeling uncertain about the offer. 

“Mom, go.  It’s a nice night and Valente can take me home.”

“Yep,” the blonde acquiesced.  “Besides, a stop at Ye Ole Fashioned Ice Cream is in order.” 

 Kevin’s eyes lit up at the mention of his favorite place.  Growing up, that had been a staple for every occasion possible and non-occasions.  

Alex’s face softened as a few memories of them spending hot summer nights there haunted her mind.  Phantoms of the past, phantoms of what once had been.  A sad smile crossed her lips.

“I’ll see you guys at home.”

“Morris, Henricksen, you two wanna join us?  Lisa, Ben?”

“Sure,” Lisa and Ben nodded.  Henricksen shook his head.  “I’m going to call it a day.” 

“Better see if the Dynamic Duo want to go, though I suspect they might be locked in a battle of wills over at the pool table.”

Rafael would normally have something witty to say but this was not the time. 

* * *

Charleston at night in the fall was still occupied with tourists who braved the risk of a hurricane or tropical storm; some taking in ghost walks that were popular with locals and tourists alike.  Some decided to stroll the old part of town; the sights of gas powered lamps casting shadows upon Bermuda stone as their feet absorbed the pre-Revolutionary cobblestone.

“So, what do you think of Charleston?  I know we’re not big and fancy like New York.”  Her accent was a bit more pronounced. Rafael loved it. 

“The tropical climate is to be desired but it’s so much…….slower than what I’m used to.”

“Time is an idea and not a lifestyle.  We don’t scurry like ants.  Unless a major hurricane is coming then we might pick up to a brisk walk.”

He laughed. 

“I take it hurricanes are a foreign concept to New Yorkers?”

“Well, we’ve had a few close calls; Sandy was the big one for us.  I was on a higher floor of the building I lived in at that time.  Got a good look at the storm surge flooding parts of the city.”

“I’ll take a hurricane over those wretched Noreasters I hear about; all that snow,” she made a face when she said it.  “When we had that freak storm last year, the city shut down.  Uncle Benny said Nature was konfonn.”

“Konfonn?”

“Confused,” Alex caught the bewildered reaction.  “As I said, Creole was my first language and we still speak in our native tongue.  And as you see we interchange some words with English.”

“It’s a breath of fresh air to hear it.”

“Really?  As compared to the thick New York accents?  I have no idea how you could understand anything anyone said.”

Rafael shrugged. 

“Well, not everyone has a ‘thick New York accent’ as you put it.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.  I’m sure the Southern accents are a bit of a shock.  When I moved here, some of the kids in school weren’t sure what to make of my Creole accent.  It wasn’t the ‘refined Southern silken tone they grew up hearing.’”

“Southern silken tone?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, they were raised to think they were superior in every way imaginable and kids like me were looked down upon.  Some called me Swamp Thing because I lived in the bayou.  Valente did not take kindly to that, but I held my own just fine.  So, how about you?”

“Grew up in the South Bronx, went to Catholic school.  I got a full ride to Harvard at 18.  I didn’t have a lot of friends except for Alejandro, Eddie, and Yelina.  Alejandro, Eddie and I were the ‘Los Tres Mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue.”

Alex let out a low whistle. 

“Ivy League; can’t say any of us got that far up the educational ladder.”

“You didn’t go to college?”

Alex shrugged and her voice dropped. 

“I have a degree in Criminal Justice.” 

Was she embarrassed or was there something about it which made her uncomfortable? 

“Is everything alright?”  Alex paused and turned to face him. 

“Yeah, it’s just it wasn’t one of the best times in my life that’s all.  College wasn’t what it was cracked up to be for me.  I wasn’t big on partying and worked.  There were still those cliques from high school and accompanying mentalities.”

“Sorry to hear that.”  It was all he could say.  What could he say?

“Don’t worry about it,” she shook her head.  “I got my degree, got the Hell outta there and back here.”

“If it helps, when I was at Harvard it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me either.”

“Lemme guess; the legacy kids gave you a few swirlies in the bathroom.”

“You could say that,” he sighed.  “Some of them would point and say, ‘oh look here comes the scholarship kid.’”

“Fuckers,” she muttered.  “While they’re there because of daddy or mommy or that very generous donation that was made.”

“Pretty much,” Rafael agreed.  “Even when I came back and got my license, it wasn’t so stellar on the other side either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rafael exhaled and stopped.  “Amarro accused me of wanting to be one of the gringitos.”

“Why?  Because you rubbed elbows with a few politicians in your time?”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?  You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.  I wasn’t trying to pry.”

_Smooth……._

“Because I worked in the DA’s office and was around the gringitos, I was accused of being better than others like me; that I looked down on others.”

“Oh, I get it.  Because you earned your law degree and fought your way up, piss on the rest.  Am I getting warm?” 

“Uh huh,” Rafael nodded.

“HEY!  GO BACK TO YOUR OWN COUNTRY!”

Through the moonlight, Rafael made out two Caucasian males marching with intent towards them.  Alex’s eyes narrowed and fist curled into a tight set of balls.  She REALLY hated people like the losers coming their way. 

“Is there a problem?”  Alex shifted her body until she was in front of Rafael.  Her posture went rigid and stance morphed, ready to fight if needed.

“Yeah, YOU!”  Tall and stupid answered.  He was wearing soiled jeans, trucker cap, and black shirt with that wretched Confederate flag complete with sleeves ripped off. 

Tall and stupid blocked her path.  Rafael saw her shoulders begin to shake and it wasn’t out of fear.

“You really should step aside,” her voice dropped dangerously low. 

“Or you’ll do what?” Short and fat retorted.  He was wearing a trucker hat with the same wretched emblem, dirtier jeans, and shirt with some military figure on it.  One of the South’s great “heroes” no doubt.  Alex loathed these fools.

“Introduce you to deodorant?” Rafael muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”  Tall and stupid started towards Rafael only to have Alex block his way again. 

“He said, turn around and walk away.  Please.”

Tensions rose like humidity in summer.  Alex feared one or both had a weapon on them as racist twats like this felt “empowered” when they were armed.  Calling themselves “patriots” when they were the terrorists.

“I don’t take no orders from one of YOU.”  He shoved Alex back causing her to fall against Rafael.  The force of his hands against her chest was sharp, hard, and fast.  Both felt their backs smack against the cold wet stone. 

“Big mistake, asshole,” Alex leapt to her feet, launching her fist square in tall and stupid’s solar plexus.  The abrupt strike temporarily stunned their attacker as short and fat as the air rushed from his diaphragm and lungs.  The next strike was her boot to his shin. 

“Bitch,” he tried to retaliate by reciprocating the gesture.  She was ready. 

Rafael watched as Alex caught his arm then launched her knee right into the groin.  Tall and stupid howled but adrenaline was pumping furiously into his veins, numbing the pain. But it didn’t help his cause as she continued to delivery blow upon blow; each strategic in disarming a suspect.

A jab to the hip; a hand catching a sailing limb; Alex’s movements were fluid.  Rafael was in awe and shock at how controlled her body was. 

“Call Valente,” she hollered over her shoulder before kicking his right knee out from underneath him.  Tall and stupid didn’t immediately collapse so she took out the other knee, letting him fall to the unforgiving pavement. 

“You really fucked up.  You assaulted a US Marshal and US Attorney, Cooter.” He growled as her knee went into the center of his spine, dispatching a searing pain that caused him to freeze.  A strained cried escaped his lips.  “Any by the way,” she roughly handcuffed him, “I was born in Louisiana and he was born in New York you ignorant piece of shit.”

Short and fat tried to make a break for it. 

“If he moves, “ she pointed at Cooter, “hit him with a trash lid.”

Rafael just nodded as she sprinted off after the other. 

* * *

Short and fat threw trash cans, lids, anything to slow her down.  Alex dodged and countered every attempt, closing the distance between them.  Her heart raced, hammered against the ribs.  His breathing was labored; clearly one too many trips to Golden Corral. Alex’s feet propelled her forward, her body sailing up and forward as her arms latched around the sweaty gelatinous blob on two legs. 

“Cletus, you two are really fucking stupid,” she fetched the spare set of cuffs she carried, knowing they would come in handy.  Cold steel clanged.   The heel of her hand pressed into his face, letting him struggle to breathe for just a few moments. 

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Alex simply laughed then kicked him in the side before forcing him to his feet. The fat absorbed the blow.

 It would be so simple to take care of this shit stain once and for all.  One less POS on the streets.  But her sensible side refrained her from doing so.

“It’s people like YOU that made me want to be a Marshal in the first place.  And by the way, I’m Louisiana Creole you boujon.”

Cletus just snarled as he was made to march back towards the gathering lights and sirens. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Konfonn – confused
> 
> Boujon – moron
> 
> Gringitos – Little white boys
> 
> Mwen renmen anpil – my dear


	12. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Rafael have a little quality time to bring the events of an eventful day to an end   
> Kevin is a smartass but in a loving way.

Valente loaded Cletus in the back. He cringed at the feeling of the oily tresses sticking between his fingers as they glided through each digit.

“Oops, watch your head,” came after head met door frame of car. 

Alex was leaning against the wall, recounting what happened to Morris.  Rafael stood alongside her.  He had draped his jacket over her shoulders for the air had chilled some since the attack.  She didn’t object to his simple gesture.

“So ‘Cletus and Cooter’ assaulted you because you’re of Cuban descent and Alex being Creole,” Morris jotted down his notes in the small pad he faithfully carried.

“They told us to get out of ‘their’ country.”  Ever since 2016, people like those two exemplary human beings felt emboldened in their hate; targeting anyone who had an accent or worshipped a different god, or simply had more pigment in their skin.

“They really should lay off the Fox and Friends,” Alex rolled her eyes. 

“You both should get checked out since you were assaulted.”

“We were shoved, Morris; not pistol whipped or shot or kicked,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Still, protocol and it’s assault,” the older agent cast each a look.  “I’ll take you both.”

“Thanks,” Alex exhaled. 

* * *

The ride to Roper Hospital was quiet. 

“You okay over there?  You haven’t said a word since we got in.”

Alex simply nodded.  Her head had begun to hurt. It was only going to worsen once the adrenaline wore off.  She was certain there would be bruising where Cooter pushed her and probably on Rafael as well. The rigid walls of Old Charleston buildings were not kind to flesh and bone.

  All she wanted was to go home, languish in the tub, then sleep. 

“Pretty sure I’ll be sore all over tomorrow.”

“Well, if it means anything, thank you.”

Alex pulled her head from the window and locked her eyes with his. 

“I try.”

* * *

She loathed hospitals.  Hospitals reminded her of that night.

Alex remained perched in the seat, refusing to sit on the exam table.  Too much like a hospital bed for her liking.  The stench of industrial disinfectant irritated her sinuses as they waited. 

Rafael spied her shoulders were taut and rigid.  This could not be comfortable for her.  

“What’s taking so damn long?” She growled.  Her continued throbbing and the insanely bright overhead lighting were not helping. 

_Too many bad memories in this place.  Gotta get outta here._

Rafael felt his phone buzz.  It was Morris. 

“Apparently Cletus and Cooter will be charged with assault of a Federal prosecutor and Marshal; this in addition to potential charges of a hate crime.  Arraignment will be overseen by another district attorney, Caroline Johnson.”

“Hmmm,” Alex nodded, “Caroline’s good.  Where the HELL is that nurse?”

If that damned nurse didn’t show up in the next 30 seconds, she was gonna bolt out of that seat.  Valente could bitch piss and moan all he wanted but being there as long as she had, was a damn miracle.

“I’m outta here,” Alex rose to her feet. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“And how are you going to get there?  Morris drove us.”

“I have two working legs,” Alex started for the door.  “You can stay here of course.”

“Alejandra, por favor,” his tone changed, causing Alex to take pause. “No seas estupido.”

“I’m not,” her fingers curled around the door. 

“I know this is hard being here.”

“Ou pa gen okenn lide,” her head dropped. 

“I don’t like being here either.  Every time I’ve set foot in a hospital, it’s been bad.”

Alex released the handle and started pacing around the room.  She couldn’t sit in one place; not here.  She could feel her heart begin to quicken and her hands rubbed across her face.  Yeah, no, she couldn’t be here. 

“I’m outta here,” she abruptly stopped and turned on her heels.  Before Rafael could stop her, she was out the door and down the hall.

* * *

Morris looked up to see Alex marching down the hall with Rafael running to catch up. 

“Great,” the agent sighed and rose to block her path. “Alex, what are you doing?”

“Going home,” came the short reply. She attempted to round him, but Morris met her moves, step for step. 

“No, you need to get checked out.  You complained about your head hurting which could be a concussion.”

“I’ll take some Ibuprofen when I get home,” she gritted her teeth.  Morris remained calm in the face of her simmering anger. 

“I will call Henricksen and he will sit on you,” Morris started to dial the senior agent’s number.  “And you know he can do it.”

His fingers pushed the 8th digit then the 9th.  Rafael was smart to stay silent as the pair stood off. 

“Last chance, Alex,” Morris placed his finger on the send button.  “Go back into the room and wait or you get to deal with Henricksen.”

Alex didn’t budge.

“Your choice,” Morris hit send.  On the second ring, Henricksen answered.

“Henricksen, can you come down to the ER?  You need to sit on Alex.”

“NO!”  Her hands went up in defeat.  “Call off Henricksen.”  The last thing she wanted was to deal with the former Marine.

“Never mind.  I’m sorry to have bothered you at home,” Morris hung up. 

“Come on,” Rafael gently led her back to the exam room.  She didn’t resist.

* * *

After another 30 minutes of agonizing waiting, the doctor finally arrived.  By then, Alex’s head was throbbing harder.  The adrenaline was beginning to subside.  Lovely.

“So, there is no signs of a concussion which is good.  I will give you a prescription for Ibuprofen 800 milligrams.  There may be some bruising or discoloration from where you hit the side of the building.”

She passed the prescription over to Alex who tucked it in her pocket. 

“Mr. Barba, as the same as I told Miss Koch, you may see some bruising or discoloration but nothing serious.  Everything came out negative on the x-rays for you both.”

“One less thing to worry about,” he looked over to Alex who merely grunted.  She looked tired and vulnerable. 

“Alright, you both are free to go.  If you have questions you have my number.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Rafael thanked her. 

* * *

15 minutes later, Morris pulled up in front of the house.  Alex felt as if a Mac truck had run her over; repeatedly.    

“If you two want to stay for a drink, you’re more than welcome.”

Morris thought about it but politely declined.

“Sure,” Rafael nodded. 

* * *

“I know you’re a Scotch man, but I don’t carry it in this house.  I do have whiskey and rum straight from the Caribbean or for the delicate palate: wine.”

“Whiskey’s fine,” Rafael watched her pull the bottle from the cabinet. 

“I’ll admit, it’s been an eventful day,” she passed a tumbler to him then helped herself to the rum.  Alex was compelled to add Coke, which she rarely did, if ever. 

“Agreed,” Rafael nodded as they sat on the couch.  “How are you holding up?”

“Aside from this headache, I’m still standing.”

She took a slow drink before speaking. 

“Thanks for being there today.”  Her lips curled up into a genuine smile. “That is the hardest time of the year.”

“Alex,” Rafael placed his drink on the stand then turned to face her, “It’s alright.”

“The rest of the 364 days I’m fine but this day…..” she breathed a heavy sigh and took another drink. 

_I can’t believe I’m talking to him about this._

“You don’t have to explain yourself.  You’re allowed to mourn; to feel.  You’re human.”

“Some days I don’t feel human.  I feel like I’m a machine, going through the motions.”

“We’ve all had those days; even me.”

“It’s how I’ve survived since that night.  It’s the only way I know how to function anymore.  It’s the ‘easy’ way I suppose.”

“I’m not judging you, Alex.  One thing I learned working in Special Victims Unit was not all victims were the same.  The ways they would process and cope with their traumas were divergent.”

“That’s what the shrink told me before I stopped going.”  She cast a lopsided look in Rafael’s direction.  “But that’s what shrinks tell you.  You saw it up close and working with the Special Victims Unit as long as you did.  It sounds more genuine coming from you.”

“Yeah, I saw a lot as I know you have seen your fair share of the dredges of humanity.”

“Understatement of the millennium,” Alex shook her head then took another drink.  This was nice.  She wouldn’t have fathomed having a conversation with the new Federal prosecutor in her home on the anniversary of Gadreel’s as being nice but, it was.  A comfortable calm embraced the room as they sat and talked. 

“So, aside from the humidity and random storms, how are you liking Charleston?  I know we aren’t as ritzy or as glamorous as the Big Apple.  We don’t have Times Square, but we do have Rainbow Row and the Battery.”

“Have you ever visited New York?”

Alex’s face scrunched like she had just caught a whiff of rotted garbage. 

“New York is overwhelming and dirty.  I was there once for some training. Everyone was in a hurry; scurrying like little ants. Go, go, go, go, go!”  Her fingers wiggled for added emphasis causing Rafael to chuckle.  “No one stopped for anything except when the traffic light said so.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t entirely impressed by our hospitality.”

“I got more courtesy out of the pigeons.”

Her accent deepened the more she talked.  Rafael just listened.  He really loved that soft Creole tone that amplified when she grew passionate about a subject.  He couldn’t recall a time when he felt like this.  So, he listened.

“Your glass is empty, Counselor,” she leaned over and snatched it from his hand. 

She went to fetch them each another round. 

Alex played the dutiful hostess and bartender; ensuring her guest was tended to.  It was Creole hospitality, which was by far, warmer than New York’s version.  If a traveler needed shelter or assistance, her people provided or helped.  It was a trait they brought from their homelands when they came to this continent. 

“Scotch,” she passed the full tumbler across before assuming her seat. 

“I am not sure how you could’ve lived in such an urban swamp.”

Rafael shrugged.  “I was just used to it I suppose.  It was all I knew growing up.”

“Point taken,” Alex nodded.  “I was accustomed to few individuals in the parish I lived in until I came here.  It was a shock, I’ll admit, but after being in New York and Houston, Charleston is more like the bayou but with more history.”

“Maybe you’ll return to New York and it will be a better experience for you?”

Alex shook her head. “No.  As I said, it’s a swamp and not in the endearing way either.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I’m sure New Yorkers would see Charleston as too hick or backwards given we are in the South.  And if they do then bless their hearts.”

Rafael nearly spat out his drink.  When he had been in SVU, Rollins clued him in to the meanings of several Southern terms and phrases as he had asked her after hearing her use one; bless your heart was at the top of the list.  And it wasn’t a sympathetic sentiment.  Alex merely stared; a playful glint in her eyes. 

“I see someone understands Southern sarcasm.  Stick around long enough, you’ll pick up on more of it.”

He planned on just that. 

* * *

The conversation drifted between various subjects as the bottles grew empty.  Alex had a pleasant buzz while Rafael was feeling good himself. 

“Sa a te yon aswè spesifik.”

“I’m sorry, what?”  Rafael finished his drink.

“I am talking to myself.  It is nothing to be concerned about.  Kwè mwen.”  She added a faint smile which made Rafael wonder.  “So, are you ready for Monday?”

He shrugged.  He had to finish his closing statement and review a couple of upcoming cases including evidence files but otherwise that was it.  It appeared he would be getting further acquainted with Judge Turner. 

“Finish up my statement.”

“Watch out for Adler.  He can be a hell of an orator when he wants to be.  Think on the level of President Obama.” 

“Lovely,” he sighed. 

“Let him issue his closing argument first.  If you’re as good a prosecutor as I have heard, you’ll be able to stab holes through his bullshit.”  Alex relaxed against the arm of the couch with one arm bent behind her head.  The hand holding her drink lifted to point a finger towards him.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he dryly thanked her. 

“Hey, I’m merely giving you a heads up as both a professional and personal courtesy.  I would hate to see you caught with your proverbial pants down.”

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared, Alex.”

“Well, don’t let it get out. I have a reputation to keep.”

“My lips are sealed and cross my heart,” he made an X gesture over his chest. 

* * *

The next morning found Alex seated at the breakfast bar.  She couldn’t sleep and decided 4 AM was a good time to get up.  Valente was snoring soundly as she passed his room.  Kevin was sleeping soundly as well.  Tomorrow would be closing arguments in this  shitshow that was Heyerdahl’s trial.  That bastard cannot be allowed to walk.  She hoped the evidence and the testimony of Ruby, the woman they found in the warehouse would sway the jury their way.  But that was the problem with juries: sometimes they couldn’t be easily read or when one thought they had, things take a 90 degree turn and blow you out of the water.

Her headache was gone but she had noticed a shadow forming in the center of her back when she stopped in the bathroom.  Sighing and rolling her eyes, she had let the shirt drop before heading downstairs. 

Rafael couldn’t sleep either.  So, he opted to continue working on his closing statement. 

With yellow legal pad staring up at him from the table and fourth cup of coffee resting beside him, he went to business.  Only, he wasn’t transcribing words to paper.  He had held the pen ready in his hand, but it remained still.  His mind kept replaying the events of the last 2 weeks like a video on continuous loop.  But it was always the instances where he was witness to another part of her that stuck in his head the longest. 

The memorial service, the get together at Guiry’s, and their quiet evening in her living room.

Talking.  Conversing over subjects and topics unrelated to work.  Though the events leading up to that point were far from conventional, the outcome was serene.  He couldn’t recall the last time he just sat, drank, and talked about anything with anyone; let alone a woman. 

Seeing her disarmed was different.  The hardened stare which usually greeted him had been erased and replaced with soft blue hues which lightened the crow’s feet that creased the corners of her eyes.  Blue that reminded him of the Caribbean: warm and gentle.  

Then seeing that same woman take out the racist duo left him stunned.  The cold anger that raged in her eyes scared him despite it not being towards him. 

Then there was the side she kept concealed from the world: The vulnerable and pained side.

His thoughts were interrupted by the low deep rumble of Southern thunder.  Those seemed to be rather common around here.  His phone read 6:53.  He wondered if she was up yet.  Probably was given the “excitement” of yesterday. 

Sighing, he attempted to pick back up on his work, with fifth cup of coffee patiently waiting by his side.

* * *

Alex helped herself to what was her fourth cup of coffee when she spun around to see Kevin standing there. 

“You look like you haven’t slept.”  He went for the fridge and retrieved the orange juice.  There was no way Valente was getting the last of it this time.

“And good morning to you too, Sweetie.”

“Valente told me what happened.” 

“And you didn’t panic or try calling me?  I’m shocked.” 

“When he mentioned the sad state of the Dukes of Hazzard after you got a hold of them and you weren’t shot or bleeding, I didn’t panic.  Once you got home with your date and were talking, I went to bed.”

“My date?  Kevin, Rafael was not my date.  We were taking a walk as normal people tend to do.”

“And some would say that could be considered a date.” 

Alex shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.  Kevin grinned while helping himself to the last bit of juice. 

“If you’re worried because of the day, I don’t think it would make Dad’s memory any less important or sully it.  It’s been seven years, Mom.”

“We are not having this conversation, Kiddo.”

Kevin huffed.  Why was his mom being so damned stubborn?  He caught a few of the glances cast her way by Barba only to have him avert his look so she wouldn’t catch him.  And that whole façade of keeping people out to protect them was bullshit.  She was scared to open up to someone because of her own fear.  But good luck getting her to admit it.

The faint but audible buzzing of her phone interrupted their conversation.

She noticed it was a text from the subject of their terse conversation. 

_Good morning.  Checking in to see how you were holding up after last night._

_Awwww……. You do care._

_Ha ha._

_Headache is gone but there is a large bruise forming dead center of my back.  You?_

_Few aches in shoulders where I hit the wall but otherwise good._

_Pop some Tylenol, Counselor._

_Thank you, Dr. Koch._

_Ha ha ha ha ha ha.  Don’t you have closing arguments to work on?_

_Yeah, I do._

_Then why are you texting me?  :/_

“Is that him?”  Kevin was smirking from across the table. 

“It’s work,”  she cast a look his way.  

“Well, talking to the Federal Prosecutor is work, Mom.” 

“You’re too smart for your own good, timoun.” 

Kevin’s response was a knowing smile before taking a bite of his toast. 

Alex just glared at him over her coffee cup. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> ou pa gen okenn lide – You have no idea  
> Sa a te yon aswè spesifik – This has been a peculiar evening  
> No seas estupido – Don’t be stupid  
> Kwè mwen – Trust m  
> Timoun - child


	13. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing Arguments  
> A Verdict  
> Alex and Rafael have dinner together, ALONE (FINALLY)

Monday came too fast. 

Alex was alone for the closing arguments as the rest of the Earp Gang were on a low risk bad guy roundup.  Her presence was not necessary, and Lisa was a capable second in command.  Not to mention she could keep Dean in line when Alex was gone. 

“Alex,” Rafael saw her standing alone in the hallway.  He was dressed in a black three-piece suit with tie that had the primary colors crossing through midnight.  A red silk square was nestled neatly in the left breast pocket. 

_Jesus why does he always look good?_

“It’s roundup day.”

“Roundup day?”  Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“The gang is helping Charleston County execute an arrest warrant.  Everything is in Lisa’s very capable hands.”

“Ah,” he nodded. 

“So, did you get your grand speech done or did you slack off?”

“I slacked off the whole day and watched the rain out my kitchen window.”

He earned an eye roll for his remark.  Rafael noticed Alex was wearing a pair of nice jeans, white button up blouse with a v-neck cut, black blazer, and what he suspected were some type of hiking boot or utility boot. 

_Even dressed in denim on court day she still looks good._

“You’ll get used to the constant storms that roll on shore through October.  It’s even more frequent during summer.  I know it’s not the crisp climate of the Big Apple.”

She added a tiny smirk. 

 Adler rounded the corner, casting a smirk at the pair.  It took every bit of strength Alex had to not punch that arrogant expression right off his face.  He casually strolled up to the pair, reeking of that expensive cologne he insisted on marinating in.  It made her sick. 

“Counselor,” he acknowledged Barba then nodded curtly at Alex, “Marshal.” 

“Counselor,” Barba reciprocated the greeting.  He was suspicious about the tone and air of confidence he carried as he strolled into the courtroom.  What did he have planned?

“Now what does he have up his overpriced sleeve?” 

“I don’t know, Alex, but it can’t be good for us.”

“Like I said the other night: orator on the same level as Obama.”  She eyed his briefcase clutched tightly in his hand.  “You have everything in there?” 

“Everything you, Henricksen, and local PD provided.”

“Heyerdahl may be like Johnny Drake in not having much of a footprint but, there is always something left behind.” 

“Exactly,” Rafael nodded.  “Shall we?” 

“Can we just skip to the part where we ship his ass to Supermax?” 

He offered a half-cocked smile while holding the door open for her.

* * *

As she suggested, Rafael let Adler go first.  Alex sat in the front row in the gallery as the defense put on their final act.  The P.T. Barnum of the criminal defenders as Cole had called him. 

Rafael could feel the hard stare coming from behind him but knew it wasn’t directed towards him.  If looks could kill…….

 “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury; this whole trial has been based on nothing more than circumstantial evidence and agenda of the Federal government, led by ADA Barba…….”

Alex rolled her eyes then looked towards the backside of Rafael, who was seated upright and listening intently to Adler. 

“The government’s evidence are a few pieces gathered from a raid on a warehouse and the testimony of one woman in addition to the words of a United States Marshal with questionable temperament which was witnessed in this very courtroom.  The entire foundation for this so-called case is built upon meager offerings and human emotion.”

“Ou fou,” Alex muttered under her breath.  Adler continued to waltz around the room, keeping his tone even but powerful.

“As we know with human trafficking, the nature of this heinous enterprise is malleable, changing as the environment dictate.  This is the same for those who operate these smuggling and trafficking rings not just here inside the US but around the world.”

“I only ask that you, members of the jury, realize the ADA’s case is porous and does not prove beyond a reasonable doubt of my client’s guilt in this matter.  If my client is found guilty, it will open a door to which anyone caught at the wrong place at the wrong time could be convicted of a crime which they did not commit.”

Rafael calmly rose, fastening the buttons of his jacket before he spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant, Mr. Heyerdahl, is not an innocent person caught up in an adrenaline and revenge fueled raid spearheaded by the FBI and United States Marshal’s office, but rather is a dangerous human trafficker.  As presented in during the course of this trial, evidence collected over the course of five years directly implicates the defendant in these crimes.”

He passed a few photos to the jurors.

“These boys, girls, women, and men suffered unspeakable acts which were issued by the defendant.  Acts that were carried out by subordinates to intimidate, coerce, and humiliate these victims into submission.  They had names, families, and homes.  All of them were victims of the defendant.”

Alex caught Adler staring at Rafael as he continued.  She fought back the smile which struggles to break her lips. 

“The Federal government has more than presented its case against the defendant.  The defense argues there is not sufficient evidence to implicate him yet, you have heard the detailed testimony of the only surviving victim in that warehouse, who was saved by Federal agents.  You saw photos which showed the levels of depravity the defendant exercised against innocent children.  The case was not built upon human emotions or a vendetta but the solid work of multiple law enforcement agencies.”

Alex was impressed with his vernacular.  Rafael commanded the attention of everyone present in the courtroom. 

“If you find the defendant not guilty, a gross injustice will have been committed.  It will send a signal saying the efforts of those fighting this abhorrent practice are for naught.  If you find the defendant guilty of these crimes, it will demonstrate the level of seriousness taken to prosecute and punish those responsible.”

Judge Turner nodded then spoke, “Members of the jury, it is now your duty to deliberate the evidence presented and reach a verdict.  Until then, this court is adjourned.” he smacked the gavel. 

“Cases like this can take a day or days for the jury to reach a verdict.  I’m not sure how it went in Manhattan with these cases.”

“Depended upon how well the People presented their case,” Rafael sighed. 

* * *

After the closing arguments, Alex suggested heading to a local café for coffee and something light.  She led them out a back way to avoid the media storm outside on the steps.  Neither were in the mood for the bullshit. 

“So, what is it you do when you’re not kicking down doors?”  

“Really, Rafael?  We don’t ‘kick down doors’; we use ‘Fat Man’.”

“Fat Man?”  His eyebrows arched up.

“Our Army green 35-pound door buster with a smiley face drawn on the front; thank you Dean.  Cole came up with the name.”

“Oh,” Rafael nodded. 

“The longer you stick around, the more you’ll learn.”  Alex’s phone buzzed and she caught the text from Lisa.

_Collar made!  Genius tried running and tripped over a dog toy in the back yard.  Jody had to go around the corner of the house so no one would see her laughing._

“Criminals are so stupid sometimes,” she sighed then returned her attention to the fluffy slices of French toast and scrambled eggs.  Rafael had decided on the same upon Alex’s recommendation.  He was glad he did.  “Makes our jobs that much easier.  Did you ever deal with the Marshals in the time you were in Manhattan?”

“No,” Rafael took a drink of coffee.  “I do know your agency does the capturing and hunting for DOJ.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.  We’ve been called ‘attack dogs’ and worse by some.  But DO NOT compare us to the Texas Rangers.  Bunch of wannabes.  And no, they are nothing like the bullshit Chuck Norris did on ‘Walker, Texas Ranger’.”

“Hostile much?”  He smirked and shoved a chunk of French toast in his mouth.

“Some of those cowboys came here for training and thought they were hot shit with firearms.  They ran back to Texas with their tails between their legs.  They didn’t like being out shot by women.  They think they’re so much better.”  She bristled and rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not familiar with all the duties of a Marshal,” Rafael look embarrassed as he spoke.  Alex’s lips lifted into a brief faint smile before it vanished. 

“I suppose I can give you a crash course, Counselor; after all, you will be working with us on a regular basis.  You’ve seen some of what we do with the Heyerdahl case.”

“The shock and awe spectacle with the FBI.”

“Yeah, but we also provide security to Federal officials including judges, prosecutors, and jurors if needed.  You should ask Judge Turner how many times we’ve been his hip attachment.  He gets really grouchy when his nap is interrupted or if anything disturbs his routine on Shabbat.”

“Judge Turner’s Jewish?”  This was new.

 “Yep.  I know, I didn’t believe it either, but he is.”

 Alex’s phone went off and this time it was a message from Dean.

_Enjoying your date with Barba?  We want deets when you get back._

She ignored it.  Rafael’s administrative assistant must’ve told him they were together. 

“So, in addition to security, we haul prisoners around, witness protection, seizure of assets which a sizable portion winds up at auction and catching the bad guys to name a few.  Speaking of assets, there is a Federal auction coming up.  If you need to do your Christmas shopping that is the place to score some great gift items.”

She paused and took a drink of coffee.  Rafael noticed the sudden silence and turbulence which loomed in her eyes.  Alex slowly put the mug down and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For my outburst in the courtroom.  I lost control and let Adler get under my skin.  If we lose this case because of me……”

“Alex,” he sighed.  “As I said, you’re human and you have emotions.  He goaded you.”

“I know but I felt I needed to apologize again.” 

“And again, apology accepted. Now, stop letting it eat at you.”

“Yes, Dad,” she playfully rolled her eyes.  “But you did a damn good job in there.  I’ve seen some prosecutors waver and crumble against Adler but not you.  I was impressed with how you handled the case.   It must be that fierce Bronx resolve.”

This time, the smile was genuine. 

* * *

Three days later, Alex was seated around piles of documents, surveillance photos, and affidavits.  Their latest target was a Belgian arms dealer who was in hiding somewhere in the US and last seen in South Carolina.  Bastard had been funneling firearms and support to suspected terrorist cells in parts of Asia and Europe.  International fugitives were always a challenge given their resources and support networks that kept them ahead of the law. 

Being busy meant it kept the rest of the gang from needling her about Rafael.  Dean wanted the deets which she refused to divulge as there were none.  It was breakfast and talking shop (well not really but that was what she told Dean to shut him up).  Cole and Lisa just gave knowing looks.  After Alex had returned from breakfast, her demeanor was lighter but still rigid.  She may think she was hiding it, but it didn’t fool them. 

Her desk phone rang, and her hand instinctively snatched the receiver. 

“Marshal Koch.”

_“Alex, it’s Rafael.  The jury reached a verdict.”_

“I’ll round the up the team.”

* * *

The media was huddled around the steps, all fighting for the slightest advantage, the tiniest piece of information that would put them over the competition. 

“Parasites,” Alex muttered as they parked. 

“Pains in the asses,” Cole shook his head.   

“So, once the verdict is read, we take Mr. Creepy back to lockup.”  Dean sighed.

“Yep,” Lisa came up beside him, watching the crowd continue to swell as protestors now joined the fray.  Signs varied from simple NO MORE TRAFFICKING to more colorful words directed towards Heyerdahl.

“I see the welcoming committee has arrived.”

“It’s a beautiful day to exercise First Amendment rights,” Alex snarked.  “That’s what makes this country great.”

One by one the jurors filed in.  Each one silent but unreadable.  Heyerdahl was dressed in a decent suit; not expensive like Rafael’s but not cheap either.  Kristi sat in the same row as the Marshals.  She wanted to be there when the verdict was read.  Valente, Morris, and Henricksen were seated directly behind them. 

“How are you holding up?”  Alex asked her.  She noted the younger woman was shaky but kept her head high. 

“Nervous.  I’m scared he won’t be found guilty.”

“I know but Barba did a great job presenting the evidence.” 

“It was a tough case, but Kristi, you were strong and tough up there,” Dean squeezed her shoulder in support. 

“All rise,” Judge Turner made his appearance. 

“Be seated,” he spoke in his usual gruff tone.  “I understand the jury has reached a verdict.” 

“We have, Your Honor,” the madam foreman replied.  She passed a folded piece of paper to the bailiff who in turn handed it to Judge Turner.  He read the verdict then returned it. 

“How do you find the defendant, Christopher Heyerdahl?”

“We find the defendant, Christopher Heyerdahl, guilty on all counts.”

A collective breath of relief rushed through the front row of the gallery.  Alex hugged Kristi who had tears of joy racing down her cheeks, smearing the minute amount of makeup on her face. 

“I can finally put this behind me,” she wept into Alex’s shoulder.  “Thank you.”   She rose to hug Morris who had been the one to coax her from that hellhole.  While all saved her, it was the dark-haired agent she would always remember.  

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you for saving me.”

* * *

“Oh, it’s a lovely day for a drive; don’t you agree, Marshal?”

Alex drove as it kept her distracted.  Heyerdahl had not shut up since they loaded him in the SUV and headed out of Charleston. 

“South Carolina is so much warmer and sunnier than Europe.  The dank dark cold winters did nothing for my skin; simply dreadful all around.”

Cole continued staring forward while Dean and Lisa were parked in the back.

“Tell me, Deputy Marshal Braden, how is your son, Ben?”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped. 

“You always were a brute, Deputy.”  He snidely remarked.  “Behaving like a savage.”

“Aw, are you mad you weren’t given the VIP treatment?”

Alistair simply chuckled, unfazed by Dean’s clap back.

“I think it’s so adorable that you and your little FBI friends think you won.  You congratulate one another as if it was some great victory.”

Alex’s jaw clenched tightly with her hands gripping the wheel with equal intensity.  She was thankful they reached the holding facility.

Or Heyerdahl would’ve become gator crap.

“You can have him,” she hitched a thumb back as Lisa opened the door and pulled Heyerdahl out. 

* * *

The rest of the day was dedicated to coordinating surveillance and scouring parts of the city with Henricksen’s team.  Right now, they were down to North Charleston, which made sense with the substantial shipping and trade zone parked on the docks and outlying area. Customs was on alert, but it would be a needle in a haystack with the volume of containers and goods that passed through daily.  Still, they may catch a break. 

“You look intense.”

Rafael stood in the doorway.  He spied the reading glasses perched on her nose; wire rims that framed her face perfectly.  “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Readers for when I’m staring at photos of the dredges of humanity all day.”

“I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”

“No, working on the next hunt so to speak,” she stood and stretched.  It was time for a break.  “What can I do for you, Counselor? I’m surprised you’re not celebrating your first big victory in the Holy City.”

“Well, it’s not fun to celebrate alone; especially in a new city.”

She spotted the hopefulness in his eyes, so she played along. 

“This is true.  One should not be alone on such a big occasion.”

“Well, I was wondering if perhaps you would join me in a celebratory steak and drink?  As a way of saying thank you for your work on this case of course.”

“Of course,” she slid off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. 

Dean cast a wide grin and gave the thumbs up to Cole and Lisa as he lurked near the door.

* * *

Alex thought she was going to faint. 60 bucks for filet mignon?!  This was why she rarely dined out at any of the reputable steakhouses on the Peninsula. 

“It’s fine on the prices,” Rafael pulled the menu down from her face, showing him a shocked expression.  “If you saw the prices at some of the places I frequented in Manhattan, you would’ve had a heart attack.”

“I don’t know-“

“Alexandra, por favor,” he insisted.  “Let me do this for you.  Please.”

She nodded and took another glance at the menu.  Alex was not going to be one of those women who picked out the highest priced item or items because they could.  That wasn’t how she was raised.  That wasn’t who she was.

“Are you both ready to order?”  Their server returned. 

“I will have the 10-ounce New York Strip, rare, with the whipped potatoes and she-crab soup; bowl please.  And another glass of Moscato.”

Rafael was impressed but of course she had to have she-crab soup. 

“I will have the porterhouse, medium rare, whipped potatoes and a bowl of the she-crab soup.”

“And another Scotch?”

“Please.”

“So, you’re taking a liking to she-crab soup I see.  I told you it was addicting.”  She smiled; again. 

* * *

Rafael let her lead the conversation through dinner.  It was mainly about the history of the city, which for many would be dry, but to Rafael, hearing her explain it was music to his ears. 

“So, the first settlement was upriver but then relocated here.”

“Oh?”

“Strategic location with the Cooper and Ashley Rivers on either side.  But everyone remembers the pirates.  Blackbeard held the city for ransom in 1718.  He blockaded the harbor and took the crew of a vessel, _The Crowley_ , hostage.  He wanted medicine for his crew who were ill.  He got it and let the crew go.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Alex said between bites of meat.  “The weak colonial government and corruption was ideal for them.”

New York didn’t have any pirate stories. 

“So, what about New York?  It’s older than Charleston.  I’m sure there is something worth sharing.”

“Have you heard the story of how Wall Street got its name?”

“No, I don’t think so.”  

“When New York was New Amsterdam, the Dutch erected a stockade as a defensive mechanism.  It kept out French, indigenous peoples, and pirates or so they say.  The name stuck as you know.  But it was also where the slave market was established where the street met the East River.  This was when the British took over.”

“Intriguing,” Alex found herself listening intently.  “What else?”

“When they were starting to build a federal office building on Broadway, the workers discovered human remains.  It turns out, it was a forgotten burial site for Africans, both free and slave, during the 17th and 18th centuries.  There were 15,000 separate remains unearthed.  What saved the remains was when the land was plotted and sold off, it was filled in because it was located in a ravine.”

“Damn,” that she did not know.  “New Yorkers didn’t realize part of their own history was cloaked in the slave trade until then, huh?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.  “There’s a National Park site there and the remains were reinterred.  It was a huge deal.”

“Well, when the conquerors choose to erase the history of the conquered or deemed unworthy of saving, it’s a big deal when something of that level happens.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Some of our ancestors were driven out of Canada by the British, leaving a lot behind: family knowledge, Bibles, documents, and other important relics.  No one should be denied the history of their lineage.”

“No,” he agreed. 

“So, how is the new place?  I noticed you are in the old part of the Peninsula which is not cheap real estate.”  She decided to change subjects before the mood went too somber.

“Compared to what I was paying in Manhattan, this is a steal.  The neighborhood has its quirks.”

“You mean it’s historic.  All those historic buildings cannot be altered on the outside and no building in the Old City can be taller than the tallest church steeple, which is Saint Matthew’s Lutheran Church.”

“The tall white tower I saw over near-“

“That is the one.  You have to admit the absence of skyscrapers is a wonderous sight to behold.  I don’t know how you did it.  Do New Yorkers simply despise sunlight and blue skies?"

“No,” Rafael rolled his eyes at her sarcastic question.  “It’ll take some getting used to, but I will concur that it is different.”

“Different is good.”

“Yes, it is.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Ou fou – You asshole


	14. Late Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valente strikes a nerve  
> Alex and Rafael continue to grow closer and open up about past heartaches  
> Alex takes an instant dislike for a certain mayor's wife

“So how was your date last night?”

Valente was greeted with a glaring set of blue from across the table.  He merely flashed a shit eating grin in kind.

“It wasn’t a date.  It was dinner and it was related to work.”  Her tone told him to end this conversation. 

“ And you could’ve turned him down.  Oh, come on, Lex.  Don’t deny it.  You had a good time.  I saw your face when you got home last night.  You had a smile; a smile I haven’t seen in a very long time.  You’re allowed to enjoy yourself.”

“You’re starting to sound like Kevin and Uncle Benny.”

“Then, we’re onto something.”

“He’s a coworker.  And even if I ‘was’ interested in him, which I’m NOT…..”

Valente noted the blush creeping up her cheeks.  Oh no, she wasn’t interested in him; not at all.  Right.

“Fine, you win,” he threw up his hands in surrender.  “You don’t like him.  But you know, you repeat a lie enough times, it becomes the truth.”

Alex finished her coffee, rose, and went to get ready for work.  Valente knew he struck a nerve but damn it, she needed to confront the truth: She was developing something for Barba. 

* * *

Alex arrived to have Cole greet her.  “Barba’s in your office.”

Nodding, she went straight towards him.  This time, he was dressed in a suit with dark blue back, light periwinkle lines which crossed the posh fabric.  His tie was similar in pattern, with various levels of blue and off-blue hues. He was leaning against the front of her desk; comfortably at that.  He looked like he had come out of one of those men's suits catalogs. 

“The hearing for our case is in 20 minutes.  I thought you might wanna head over.”

“Yeah, give me a second.” 

She dropped everything off but her phone, gun, badge, and ID then headed out with Rafael. 

* * *

They sat in the front row, waiting.  Caroline Johnson, the prosecuting ADA approached them. 

“Counselor, Marshal,” she warmly greeted them. 

“Caroline,” Alex shook her hand.  “What can you tell us?”

“The police and a couple of FBI agents searched their homes and found quite a bit of paraphernalia related to neo-Nazi and right-wing hate groups including an apparent hit list of local social justice activists, civil rights leaders, church leaders, and others deemed as quote “Threats to the White Christian Nation.  In addition, a rather impressive arms cache was found in one of the defendant’s home.” 

“Ah, fine pillars in the community,” Rafael’s sarcasm caused Alex to snort.   

“Who’s the judge?”

“Judge Singer.”

“Those two are in for a long trial with Judge Singer.  He doesn’t tolerate ignorant bullshit.”

Just then, Cletus and Bubba were escorted in.  Each cast daggers towards Alex and Rafael, the former rolling her eyes.  She hoped they enjoyed their time with the other inmates as jail is a diverse environment.

Judge Singer appeared and everyone was seated.  He peered over his wire rimmed glasses at the pair.  One had a simian-features, a protruding chin, and Neanderthal skull that was masked by newly shorn hair.  The other was shorter, fatter, with an obvious keg for a gut, arms hairier than a dog’s, and mullet that reminded him of Joe Dirt. 

“Counselor,” he started.

“My client pleads not guilty,” the first public defender stated.

“My client also pleads not guilty,” the second public defender stated.

“ADA Caroline Johnson for the People.  Your honor, the defendants assaulted a United States Marshal and Federal prosecutor.  They told the victims to go back to their own countries with additional racial and ethnic slurs.  In addition, there was an arms cache discovered with weapons ranging from handguns to AR-15s with enough ammunition to supply a small army.  In addition to that, materials for making explosives, instructions, and a hit list of prominent civil rights and social justice figures was discovered in a manifesto.  We request remand due to the danger the defendants present not only to the victims but society as a whole.”

“The court grants the People’s request for remand.”

Cletus turned and spat on the floor in Rafael and Alex’s direction.  “Parasites! You should be exterminated like the vermin you are!  This is OUR country!”

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the cot,” Alex muttered. 

“Are they always this friendly down here?”

“Just a few; that warm Dixie hospitality.”

“So, what entails your day?”  He changed the subject.

“More searching and interviewing to find a scumbag arms dealer.  The Belgians, British, and French want this guy’s head on a stick.  He decided our backyard was the place to hide.  Dean and Cole are out speaking to what witnesses and contacts we have which is slim.”

“Well, any lunch plans?”

Alex pursed her lips tightly.  She forgot to bring something. 

Sighing, she replied, “I forgot to pack something today so, no.”

“Join me?  You pick.”

“Chinese?” She was quick in her reply.  Too quick for her liking.

His mouth curled up into a half-smile. 

“Sure.”

* * *

“So, you have a second date?”

Alex glared at Dean who merely flashed a grin. 

“What is it with you guys and thinking when I go out to a meal with Barba it’s a date!?!?”

“Well, you two are alone and it’s not work related.”

“Dean, I swear, I am going to put you on shit patrol.  And don’t you have some witnesses to go interview?”

“Yeah, we do,” Cole grabbed his bag and then tugged Dean away by the ear.  “Let’s go, Deano.”

Dean chanted “ow ow ow ow ow ow ow” as they made their exit.  Lisa was already out on the hunt with Morris.  It seemed the FBI was tasked to assist given the gravity of the situation.  That left Alex to deal with paperwork and all the fun research stuff only their fearless leader could manage.  It was fine as being alone meant getting more accomplished. 

She decided to work on the potential locations of where their latest target could be hiding.   And it kept her distracted from thinking about a certain Federal prosecutor.  Alex gathered the notes from completed interviews and intelligence and got to work.

* * *

Rafael threw himself in his work; determined to not let Alex impede his thoughts.  She was starting to become more comfortable around him.  He wasn’t sure she would accept his offer for dinner the other night but what was the worst that could’ve happened?  She laugh at him and tell him to piss off?  He had worse rejections during his time at Harvard and law school, so he was prepared for it. 

But to his pleasant surprise, she had accepted. 

And now, he was two for two with lunch.  He hoped to continue the streak, gain her trust and get her to open up more. 

She was stark contrast to Yelina.

Yelina was high maintenance; always clothed in the finest dresses, determined to make a splash.  And she was snobbish sometimes.  Alex, Alex was the complete opposite.  She was down to earth but fashionable.  Snobbish she was not; bitchy and issues with anger, yes, but she was also honest.   She wasn’t one to show up in the office dressed in the latest business attire pushed out by Vogue or Vanity Fair.  He got the sense denim was more her taste which he rather enjoyed seeing her in.  Every pair she had worn hugged her legs accentuated her strong legs and shapely hips in just the right way. 

 He looked up at the clock noting the time was 11:43. 

Getting to a stopping place, Rafael grabbed his phone and jacket and headed out. 

* * *

Rafael was about to knock on her door when he heard Alex on the phone. 

“Okay, note everything and drop off your papers before lunch, Dean.  Would you quit whining? Yes, I know Cole was mean for grabbing you by the ear this morning.  Yes, I will talk to him when you two get back.  Bye, Dean.”

Alex hit end on her cell and looked up. 

“Sometimes I feel like I have more than one kid.”   She sighed. 

“No one told you you’d be a babysitter when you became Marshal?”

“Rafael Barba: Comedian.  Don’t quit your day job.”       

* * *

The place was more for locals with a few tourists sprinkled in between.  She settled on the broccoli beef with two egg rolls.  Rafael decided on sweet and sour chicken. 

“You know, we keep going out like this, people are gonna talk.” 

“Are you worried?”  He teased. 

“No,” she shrugged.

“Good,” he beamed from across the table.   “So, are you going to the gala in two weeks?”

“Sadly, yes.  I’m not immune to mandatory attendance of functions such as that.  Having to get a gown and the time it takes to get ready.  Give me a pair of Levi’s any day.”

He loved it.  She wasn’t a prima donna.  Of course, he had felt differently in the past when he was in New York, but the short time he had been in Charleston had opened his eyes a little more. 

“You okay over there?”  Alex waved her hand.   Rafael had been staring off. 

“Yeah, I was just thinking about a case.”

“Gets the best of us from time to time.”  She reached for a fork and caught the look on his face.  “I had a disastrous encounter with chopsticks once.  I’m not cultured like you.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m cultured,” Rafael chuckled. 

“The closest thing to culture I’ve had was our senior trip to Washington, D.C.”

“Oh yeah?  And how did that turn out?”

“Interesting would be an understatement.  One of us got busted for being drunk in public and it wasn’t me.  They were found streaking towards the Capitol which alone was hilarious.  And another tried to ride a mounted cop’s horse, after a few too many, which the cop did not find funny at all.”

“Huh,” Rafael caught the mischievous glint in her eye.  “And were you a part of these extracurricular activities?”

“I can neither deny nor acknowledge my role in these activities.”

“Right.”

“If anything happened, the records was were expunged as we were all MINORS.”

“Uh huh,” Rafael knew he could get information if he really wanted to know the truth.  He was certain Benny or Valente could fill in the gaps. 

“How about you?  Did you get into any trouble?”

“No, no I was a kid from the Bronx who was too busy fighting his way through life.  I attended the School of Hard Knocks.” 

“You didn’t get involved in any shenanigans, pranks……”

“Nope.  I was as exciting as paint drying.”

“And here I was thinking you were a rebel rouser.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Alex.”

“I’m not disappointed.  I suppose it’s a good thing you weren’t a troublemaker; at least not growing up.”

“You’re saying I make trouble for you?”

“Not yet.”  She added a wicked grin. 

* * *

“Well, look who’s back from their lunch date,” Valente was waiting for her when she returned.  Alex’s nostrils flared and lips pursed but she marched straight for her office. 

“It wasn’t a date, Valente!” 

Henricksen was about to be down an agent if Valente didn’t stop running his mouth.

“What did you find?” 

“We think our dealer may be in North Charleston.”

“Think?  We can’t bust an international fugitive because we ‘think’ he’s somewhere.  We need a little more thank instinct or thoughts.  Barba isn’t going to give us a warrant based on that.”

“Well, we can rule out West Ashley, Folly Island, and Sullivan’s Island for now.”

“Let’s put what we have together and determine if we missed anything.” 

The rest of the day was exhaustive combing of interviews, surveillance notes, photos, leads, and information from informants.  Alex felt another migraine forming and quickly downed another pill to stave it off. 

“You okay, Boss?”  Dean spotted her rubbing her temples. 

“Yeah, migraine knocking, Dean.  Don’t worry, I popped a Marshal’s little helper.” 

“Gotcha,” he went back to reviewing the stack in front of him. 

* * *

The end of the day couldn’t arrive soon enough.  Alex sent the rest of the gang home and stayed behind to continue working.  They had narrowed the search to North Charleston and surrounding areas, but they were at a standstill for now.  She wanted to have everything in line before tomorrow when maybe, one of Valente’s informants would have something definitive.

She glanced at the clock, duly noting the time before focusing back on wrapping up the day’s work. 

“You’re still here?”

She looked up through tired bleary eyes to find Rafael standing in her doorway.  Even with the glasses, her eyes had started to burn.

“Wrapping up loose ends before tomorrow; hoping Valente’s informant turns up something good.”

“Have you taken any break since the rest left?” 

“No, I wanted to get this done.” 

“Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch.  Sometimes, I don’t eat until the next day when it’s a high-profile case.”

“Are you hungry?”

Alex paused and looked up at Rafael.  “Maybe.  Depends.”

“Well, if you like, I can bring something back so you can keep working?”

She weighed her options.  A break would be nice and right now they weren’t exactly going in a specific direction on this case. 

“I can do one better,” she picked up the phone. 

* * *

20 minutes later, Alex was reclined in her seat with Rafael across from her. 

“I figured something local would be appropriate,” she passed the container of biscuits over.  “They deliver here all the time and family style portions makes it easy.  I wish there was a Creole place close by.”

“Can you cook Creole?”

“Not as good as Uncle Benny but I’m adequate enough.  Gadreel was the chef.  He loved cooking.  I know, it’s hard to imagine an Army Ranger slaving over a hot stove.”  She laughed but it wasn’t empty or missing in emotion. 

“Your husband,” Rafael tread carefully.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “Were you married before coming down here?”

“No,” Rafael shook his head.  “I didn’t have time for serious relationships as I was always working.  Well, there was one, but that was when I was in Brooklyn as ADA.”

Alex spied the pained expression, sensing he had experienced heartache with it. 

“She left me for another man.”

“Bitch,” she spat before her brain caught up to her mouth.  “She wasn’t worth your time.”

“She married a long-time friend of mine.  It turns out she had been sleeping with him behind my back.”

_That jennès better not show her face around here……_

“That’s cold.  I know the feeling.  But it wasn’t Gadreel who did that to me.”

_No, but Gad wanted to kill the guy who did do that to me……_

“Well the guy she married?  He was busted for paying off porn stars with cushy government jobs and sexting with a 15-year-old girl; denied it continuously despite the evidence.  He used the alias Enrique Trouble to find women to cheat with.  Then he gets elected Mayor of New York.”

“Wait,” Alex put her biscuit down.  “Alex Munoz?  That’s THE GUY?!?!”

“You heard about him?”  Rafael was taken aback but this.

“It made national news.  Politicians and their penises make for great stories as we’ve seen recently.”  

“You have a way with words, Alex.”                                                                                                     

“It’s part of my Creole charm,” she shrugged.  “So, the arm candy, his wife, is that who I think it is?”

“Yelina,” he heavily sighed.  “She was the one-“

Alex shot up a hand.  “You don’t have to tell me anymore, Rafael.  I know she broke your heart.  It’s written on your face.”  She felt a pang in her chest at the sight of his pain.  It fueled the kindling that was rage towards this Yelina.

_She definitely better NOT set foot in my city now….._

“I’m sorry she put you through Hell.  No one deserves that: your heart ripped out from your chest by the person you adored and held nothing but love for.  To watch them walk away, not giving a single glance back.”

Rafael couldn’t believe his ears.  Alex was opening up in a significant way. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I guess I feel safe, secure, comfortable telling you this.”

“Well, at least you know you’re not alone in that department,” he smiled.  Alex returned the smile. 

“Alex, was he-“

“He was.  He was part of the Three Musketeers of Jerome Avenue.”

“Jesus,” Alex took a drink of coffee.  “He was not only one of your best friends but also….”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it sounds like they’re made for each other.  But to be honest, him banging porn stars then giving them cushy government jobs and sexting 15-year-old teenagers sounds like Karma paying her cheating ass back hundred-fold.  She deserved it.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

Alex cast him a look as if to say, “don’t get me started.”

“Hopefully Karma has paid back the one who did you wrong as well.”

“No,” she sighed, “sadly, he graduated from Yale with honors and went on to become a United States Senator.”

Rafael paused and thought a second.  A Senator?

“Was it…..”

“One Richard Roman, also known as Senator Richard Roman and Valente’s asshole half-brother. Yeah, him.  Karma hasn’t visited him yet.  I keep waiting but I suppose she has something rather tantalizing in store for him.”

“Guess we both got walked on huh?”

“Yep,” Alex opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle.  “Straight from Sint Maarten. This is some of the smoothest rum I’ve tasted.” 

She grabbed a couple of plastic cups and poured generous helpings for them both.  “I figured if we’re gonna commiserate over heartbreak and speak ill of our respective ex’s, we best have the right beverage for it.”

Alex passed the cup to Rafael who graciously accepted.  He wasn’t a rum man but, he was game to try it. 

It was liquid honey. 

“Wow, this is smooth.” 

“Told ya,” Alex grinned.  “I won’t tell the scotch you cheated on it; cross my heart,” she made an X over her chest.

“Thanks,” Rafael took another drink. 

“You know Rafael, Marion Barry was busted in a hotel smoking crack cocaine and got elected as mayor DC; twice.  So, to be fair, immoral and unethical behavior seems to be a prerequisite for office.”

He couldn’t but help to laugh at this.  Alex simply shrugged, savoring her drink between bites of biscuit and she-crab soup. 

She didn’t admit to him, but Alex was glad he came by.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Jennès - whore


	15. 10-999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serving a warrant goes sideways with one winding up in the hospital.   
> Alex and Rafael spend more time together (YEAH)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10-999: Code for officer down

Alex HATED shopping, let alone dress shopping. 

For the cost of one of those damned things, she could have a round trip ticket to Miami paid. 

Yet, here she was, strolling along King Street, looking for something that would meet her taste and budget.  There was a consignment store that caught her eye.  Why buy new for a one-night cluster?  She wasn’t out to impress anyone, especially that jerk Dick Roman.  Well, maybe someone……

She went through about seven different dresses, deliberately finding fault in each one.  Too short.  The back was too open.  It made her ass look big.  The color was off.  The skirt was too wide.  And the excuses continued. 

Alex waved the salesgirl off.  She was polite but Alex was on a mission.  Her search brought her to the corner, hidden from the main traffic of the shop.  It was there she spotted it.

Perfect.

20 minutes later she was walking out the door with dress and shoes. 

* * *

“So, I take it you found something?”

Valente spotted the slight grin on her face. 

“You could say that.” 

He let out a low whistle as she produced her purchase.  “So, who are you gonna try to impress?”

“More like piss off and taunt.”

“My brother.”

“Who else?”

Valente rolled his eyes. 

“Your brother brought this on himself.”

“Petty much?”

* * *

Monday rolled around like a Mack truck. 

“Okay, so, this is our target,” Alex slapped the photo of the arms dealer dead center of the table.  “This is one Lucas Jaansens.  This upstanding human being is responsible for countless deaths and injuries as a result of his illicit arms dealing to various terrorist cells, state sponsored terror groups, and other depravities of humanity over the last decade.  Last spotted fleeing Antwerp towards the United States.  The FBI lost him at JFK, but he decided our city was his ideal vacation spot.”

“So how did the FBI locate him?”  Cole studied the photo.  The image of pale skinned man with clean shaven face, cutting grey eyes, and striking blonde hair was impressive.  He could’ve passed for a diamond broker or banker. 

“One of my CI’s,” Valente cut in.  “They spotted our friend coming and going from a warehouse in North Charleston; along with a small entourage of heavily armed goons.”

“Lovely,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“You got the warrant, Counselor?”  Alex looked up at Rafael. 

“You’ll have an electronic copy sent as well to cover your asses,” he passed the paper version to Alex.  She was dressed for battle: Tactical pants with both firearms hugging her outer thighs.  The bulletproof vest was secured tightly around her fit torso; gloves clung to her hands while her hair was tight in a bun.  The finishing touch, her shades, rested atop the crown of her head.  The look in her eyes was hard, like a soldier who was preparing to enter battle. 

In a way, she was.

She looked good. 

He shouldn’t be thinking that, knowing she could potentially get injured or worse.

_Don’t you dare think that!_

“Just come back in one piece.”

“We always do,” her voice was stern but quiet.

* * *

No one could think of anything to say as they made their way towards the docks of North Charleston.  Alex sat mute, eyes turned out towards the window, fingers toying with her pendant.  No one knew what to expect when going on a raid.  Kicking down a door, uncertain of what or who loomed it.  Knowing Jaansens, he would be armed to the teeth as would the rest of the NRA fan club.

The rest of the FBI gang was in a vehicle behind theirs. 

Valente had caught the worried glance in Barba’s eyes as Alex had walked out the door. He had spared a moment with him before he caught up with the others.

_“Look, I know you’re worried about her and don’t tell me you’re not.  I saw that look you gave her.”_

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Valente.”  He avoided the knowing stare, instead focusing his attention on a file folder sitting on a random desk._

_“Bullshit, Barba.  That’s a look I know well because I’ve seen it before.”_

_“Oh, what, you’re an expert in human emotions, Agent?”  His means of deflecting: sarcasm.  It was as if he was arguing with the male version of Alex._

_“You’re just as stubborn as her you know that?!”_

_“I thought it was part of my charm.”_

_“You can deny and thwart and fool some, Counselor, but you won’t fool me.”_

Those two were so much alike it wasn’t even funny.  Sarcasm was a weapon and throwing up walls was their art form.

* * *

The teams met a block from the site, reviewing recent intel gathered.

 “No one’s moved in or out within the last hour.  The FBI will secure all access points in case someone tries to run.  We’ll storm the Bastille from the front using Fat Boy.  Dean will take point with the shield with Cole covering up top. ”

She pulled the shades over her eyes, shielding the anxiety brewing. Beneath the calm exterior, her heart sprinted within its bony cage.

* * *

“FUCK! GET DOWN!”

Everyone dropped to the pavement. 

Jaansens was apparently expecting them and arranged a welcoming committee.  Bullets whizzed and whistled over the roofs and hoods of their SUVs, several smashing through glass as others embedded into chrome or struck a tire, puncturing it.

“He knew we were coming!” Henricksen screamed over the radio as the others attempted to return fire.  Now, more of Jaansens’ brute squad had joined to fray, packing high powered assault rifles with high-capacity magazines, ensuring they didn’t run out as quickly as the Feds.

Alex scurried from behind one SUV to another, catching the eye of one of the goons.  A trail of bullets kissed her bootheels as she slammed into the vehicle’s side. 

“Nice to see you, Alex,” Morris was reloading his weapon. 

“No time for small talk, Morris, have bad guys to catch or kill,” she grabbed the AR-15 he snagged before ducking for cover.  “Cover me, would you?” 

Together, they jumped up, hugging the driver’s side like their lives depended on it as they opened fire.  Morris went for the ones of the left as she went for the ones on the right.  The bullets continued flying, striking tree, building, vehicle, or pavement.  The pinging echoed in their ears as the roar of handgun and AR dominated it all. 

It was surreal. 

Adrenaline surging like powerful tidal waves, fueling the drive to kill in each of them.  

_“HOLD YOU DAMN FIRE!”_

Henricksen was screaming over the radio. 

_“TARGETS ARE DOWN!  I REPEAT, TARGETS ARE DOWN!!  HOLD YOUR FUCKING FIRE!!!!”_

The last few rounds were squeezed off, to make certain no one would get up.  The kickback from the AR was still reverberating through the bulletproof vest and against Alex’s shoulder.  She and Morris slowly straightened, cautiously assessing the carnage which lay before them.   

“Stay behind me,” she kept the AR raised as they crept towards the pile of broken bodies, blood, and firearms which lay scattered about.  Her body was shaking, the adrenaline coursing at a furious pace.  Their eyes continuously scanned the scene, searching for the faintest signs of life.  They never took appearances at face value. 

Complicity got you killed.

The others quickly joined, kicking guns away from reaching hands that were frozen at the moment of death. 

Alex searched the bodies, hoping to locate their target.  

“He’s not here!  MOTHER FUCKER!”  Alex kicked the nearest corpse out of frustration.    

“Alex,” Henricksen curled his hand around her bicep, squeezing to bring her back.  “If he’s here, he isn’t far.” 

His calming tone snapped from the trance.  She shook her head then took a deep breath. “Then let’s search the building.” 

* * *

The sharp bite of the bullet struck the gap between the plates of her vest, embedding within her ribs. 

“ALEX!”  Her body fell towards the pavement, landing with a loud thud.

Lisa spotted the assailant first and put a bullet in his head. 

“Boss!”  Dean ripped the vest away and pulled her shirt up.  He pressed one of his massive hands against the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding.  Bastard had used a Sig Sauer on her and by the initial looks, a P229.   

“Don’t talk,” Henricksen shushed.  Valente was on the radio; frantically calling for medical assistance. 

“Don’t……” she took in a pained breath, “Don’t let that bastard escape…….”

The shrieking of the approaching sirens sliced the air. 

* * *

Rafael couldn’t recall the last time he had ran so fast. 

Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time had ran, period. 

He ignored the curious stares as he darted for the elevators.  Valente was right beside him, still clad in his tactical gear. 

“Tell me you have news,” Rafael caught his breath once the doors closed.  He was thankful it was just them. 

“The bullet caught the gap on her side.  Son of a bitch took a shot and got lucky.”

“LUCKY?!”  Barba glared at Valente. 

“Sorry,” he shot a hand up.  “Poor choice of word.  We thought no one was alive after the shootout but the bastard had enough life to try and take someone out.”

Rafael suddenly felt sick.  He bent over, grappling his knees with his hands, eyes closed and breathing irregular. 

_This isn’t happening.  It’s a nightmare; a long terrifying nightmare.  I’m gonna wake up soon._

“Breathe,” Valente gripped his shoulder, hoping to steady him.  “Alex is tough, she’s a fighter.”

* * *

Rafael felt his entire body trembling as they reached their floor. 

_She isn’t going to die.   She can’t die._

They saw the rest of the Earp gang, along with Henricksen, Morris, Andrea, and Benny in the waiting area. 

“How is she?”  The words tumble from the Counselor’s lips.  Panicked emeralds searched their eyes, hoping for news.  Andrea spoke up.  She walked towards him, collecting his shaky hands within hers.  The warmth of her skin against his seemed to bring some calm over him.

“There were two bullets lodged. One nicked her lung when it hit her side and the other went in below it.  The second one missed her major organs.  It wasn’t enough to cause serious damage, but her ribs were cracked.”

“When can we see her?” 

“Once they get her moved to ICU and stabilized.  Come, let’s get some coffee and sit down.”

He just nodded absently, letting Andrea lead him towards the cafeteria for decent coffee.

* * *

An hour later, the surgeon appeared.  She was still clad in the bloody scrubs from earlier.  Her eyes were tired and face unreadable.  Rafael shot up like a rocket and made a straight line for her. 

“She’s in ICU recovering and resting.  But I would like to keep the number of visitors in her room to no more than two at a time.  The next 24 hours are critical. But-“

“BUT!?”  Rafael blurted out.

“Please, Mr.-“

“Barba.”

“Mr. Barba, her vitals are strong, and she made it through the surgery.  Her chances of making a full recovery are very good at this point.  We’ll continue to monitor her condition.”

“Rafael should go in first,” Andrea suggested.  “Benny and I can wait to go after.”

She flashed a tiny smile at her husband who only nodded in agreement.  “Yes, let him go first.  We can entertain the kids.”

Henricksen raised an eyebrow at that comment.  Kids? 

* * *

Rafael froze in the doorway and his heart dropped.

She looked pathetic, tiny, and so damn vulnerable in that bed.  An IV line dripped in cadence with the heart monitor attached to her.  The mask fixed snugly over her mouth and nose, delivering precious oxygen to her damaged body.  The steady rhythm of the machine provided no solace in what he saw.  The room was lit but no warmth could be pulled from the artificial light.  Luckily, there was a window that allowed the sun’s embrace to flood the otherwise sterile space. 

He approached, pulling a chair alongside her bed.  His hand reached for hers, curling around her cooler one.  Rafael wasn’t sure to say and even if he could say anything.  Instead, he stayed silent and kept vigil over her. 

Valente had been right. 

He had been worried.

And he was stubborn. 

He held her hand tighter, hoping she could sense his presence.  He wanted her to wake up. 

He _needed_ her to wake up. 

_Please……open your eyes, Alex._

Rafael rested his arm on the edge of the bed then nestled his head on it.  He closed his eyes and began to feel himself doze off. 

He didn’t feel the movement as her hand slowly slid from beneath then laid on top of his. 

  “He looks so cute when he’s asleep,” Alex quietly muttered.  Movement from the corner of her eye alerted to Benny hovering in the door.  She put a finger to her lips then pointed down to Rafael.  Her uncle smirked the nodded.  His aging eyes didn’t miss her hand over his. 

* * *

Benny retreated to the waiting area. 

Henricksen, Morris, and Valente had returned to the scene of the day’s massacre.  Paperwork had to be filed and of course, there were certain individuals demanding answers.  Jaansens had been critically wounded as he attempted to escape.  He was two floors up from Alex, under tight security.  Dean was pulling the first shift with Cole leaving Lisa to provide assistance to the agents back at the docks.

 “Alex woke up, my dear.”

Andrea smiled and took a drink of her tea. 

“And Rafael?”

“Asleep.”

“Let the boy rest, Benjamin.  The events of today have taxed his mind and soul.”

“You are right, as usual, my dear.” 

She just smiled wider at his admission.  Despite their age, she still found it adorable the way he behaved sometimes. 

“Perhaps we should go in and say our goodbye so they can spend some time together while she recovers.  Besides, I can prepare some tea for her and you can make one of those healing packs.”

“Ah!  Yes, how could I forget!  The family recipe has always helped the Lafittes in times of illness and injury.  Come my dear, let us ease Kevin’s anxieties on the way.”

Andrea was already hitting send before Benny could finish his sentence.  Their nephew could breathe some relief for now and focus on his schoolwork.  Kevin knew her job was dangerous, and he had been beside himself when Benny called with the initial news.  But Andrea was relaying the good news and assuring him he did not need to come down but to remember the next 24 hours were still vital.  The news she was awake did provide promise she would continue to improve and get stronger.

* * *

Rafael awoke, swearing his neck had become stiff.  He remembered he was in Alex’s hospital room and she had been shot while serving a warrant.  His warrant.

“Dinner’s in 20 minutes in case you’re hungry.  I’m sure the nurse could get you the soup of the day or the roast beef.”

A pained smile lit her face as she lay there. 

“You’re cute when you’re asleep and not running your mouth.”

“Thanks,” he playfully rolled his eyes.  “You gave everyone a scare.”

_A part of me thought you weren’t going to come back._

“I’ve survived worse,” she shrugged.  “They gave me a drain tube.”  Alex made a face. “Wanna see?”

“No, that’s okay.  So, how are you feeling?” 

“I can’t feel my side, I have 24/7 access to painkillers, scared my team, scared my family,” her face dropped as she spoke.  Alex then paused and took a deep breath.  She locked her eyes with his.  A hint of sadness dampened her eyes. “And I scared you.”

Her hand curled tighter over his. 

“I heard you talking in your sleep and yes you talk in your sleep, Rafael.”

“W-what did I say?”  He straightened in the now uncomfortable chair.

“More like you were pleading or praying.  You kept saying, ‘please come back’ and ‘don’t leave me.’” 

“I-I did?”  He felt hot all of a sudden. 

“Mmmm hmm,” she nodded. 

“I’m sorry if you heard that.”

“Why would I be sorry?”  She attempted to sit up but the shift in her weight caused her cry out as her wounds were disturbed.  “FUCK!  BAD IDEA!!”

“Whoa, don’t do that,” Rafael stopped her before she moved anymore.  “Here, let me help.”

He carefully shifted the measly pillows around before putting the fuller one in front so she would be more comfortable. 

“Thanks,” she leaned back, finding the pain vanishing.  “So, you’re gonna be heading home tonight? I  mean, you wouldn’t want to sleep on that couch.  It’s not the Ritz and I don’t know how much longer I’m trapped here at Kingdom Hospital.”

“You read Stephen King?” 

“Yeah,” she shrugged.  “I read his books through high school.  My favorite is Rose Red, but Kingdom Hospital was a pretty close second.  That house was like Christine only crazier.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t peg you for a horror fan.  I figured you were into _The Inferno_ and other great works including _The Iliad and Odyssey_.”

Rafael shrugged and gave a half smile.  “I enjoy the literary works, but I did read other non-Classical works too.  But _The Stand_ was TOO long and _Salem’s Lot_ was graphic.”

“ _The Shinning_ was another great one; creepy ass hotel in the middle of the Rockies with shrubbery that comes to life and a sex starved dead woman in the tub of Room 217.  Sounds like Dean’s kind of weekend.”

Rafael could see that.  Dean was fascinated by things paranormal. He had learned that after the younger man talked about his experiences in the Old City Jail.  He couldn’t shut up about it! He sounded like Carisi whenever he got on a tangent.

“I could stay, Alex.  I don’t mind the couch.  There were times I would sleep in my office when a case was pretty intense.  I kept a bag there for that reason.”

“I’ve done that a few times myself and had a small camping arsenal in mine.  And don’t put yourself out on my account.”

“No, it’s fine.  I want to.  I can go home, pick up some stuff, and grab the tea and healing pack your aunt and uncle were going to put together.  I can stop by and grab whatever you want from home.” 

Alex thought about it then nodded.

“I have a pair of yoga pants and a Hurricanes tee I like to wear and clean underwear, please.”

“Not a problem,” Rafael reached over, squeezing her hand before heading out. 

* * *

An hour later, Rafael was back with two bags and a garment bag that housed his work suits.  He spied the empty food tray on the extendable table. 

“So, what was for dinner?”

“Nothing exciting: Chicken soup with rice, green beans, and tea.  Dessert was a lovely red Jello.  The nurse is watching me to make sure I’m drinking enough water.  Tell me you brought some rum.”

“Oh, you’re funny.”  He dropped the bags by the couch.  “Valente talked to Kevin and gave him the number for your room, so expect a call from him tomorrow.  I did bring your phone and charger.”

“Yeah, I’m at level 3700 on Candy Crush; gotta keep ahead of the others.  You can join our game.”

“It would be as disastrous as my first year of little league.”

Alex couldn’t imagine Rafael playing little league let alone ANY sport.  He probably looked goofy in one of those uniforms.   She watched as he dug out the spare pillows and blanket from the closet and set to making his bed. 

“Valente did want me to give you this,” he fished around the side pocket of his bag until he found it.  “He grabbed it before the ambulance brought you here.”

It was her pendant.  In all the chaos, she didn’t realize it was gone. 

Rafael unhooked the clasp and slid it around her neck.  The familiar weight back against her neck and chest.

“Thank you.  This means a lot to me.”

“May I ask what it is?”

Alex held it to the light, showing the dull bronze looking item housed within a protective circle of silver.

“It’s copper from the Nuestra Señora de Atocha.  It was a Spanish galleon that down in a hurricane off the Keys in 1622.  It was melted then made to look like an old Spanish coin.  It was a gift; from Gad.”

Her voice had slowed and lowered when she mentioned her late husband.

“It’s beautiful.”

“The cafeteria is on the first floor and open 24 hours.  I only know because….” She shifted topics.

  “Say no more,” he stopped her.  “Thanks for the tip.”

Rafael finished setting up then turned back to Alex.  She had fallen back asleep.  

He couldn’t but help to lean over and sweep the few loose strands aside then gently kiss her forehead. 


	16. Chapter 16

It was the sound of shuffling papers and a tapping pen that stirred Alex back to consciousness. 

“Trying send out an SOS?”  She opened her eyes and wiped the crust from them. 

Rafael paused mid tap and lifted his gaze from the files towards the bed.

“Funny,” he snarked back before returning to his work.  “You snore when you’re sleeping.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Alex merely shrugged. 

Being confined for almost a week was beginning to get to her.  Alex was able to walk about; so long as she didn’t walk fast or attempt to run.  Hell, to be honest, it sucked to even get out of bed just to use the bathroom!  The damned drain tube was due to be removed the following day (FINALLY).  It remined Alex of an overcooked noodle.  At least she was in her own clothes and not in an oversized curtain that wouldn’t stay closed regardless of how she tied it. 

“What time is it?”                                                                                                          

“Almost 5 PM,” he replied without looking up.  “You’ve been asleep all day.”

“Morphine, it’s a helluva drug.  I try not to use it but……” 

“Alex,” he stopped and set the pen down, “You took two bullets, with one hitting your lung.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you Doctor,” her voice snapped harder than she thought.  “Shit, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…..”

“No offense taken,” he smiled.  “You’ve been through a lot this week.”

“No, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.  It was rude of me and uncalled for.”

“I’ve been told worse,” Rafael dropped the pen, deciding he had done enough for one day. 

“Damn,” Alex felt the jolt of pain in her side.  She lifted her shirt and saw the angry red splotch surrounding the festering pus along the stitches and tube.  Not again. “FUCK!” 

“What’s wrong?”  He saw the panic setting in across her face. 

“It’s infected,” her eyes went wide in fear and voice shrank. 

“I’ll call the nurse,” he pushed the call button. 

“It’s happening all over again!” 

“What? What’s happening all over again? Hey, look at me” he forced her to focus on him.  “What is happening?”

Alex felt her heart racing as the panic settled deeper.  She was losing control.

The nurse scurried in, instantly spotting why she had been paged. 

“Damn,” she muttered. 

“What?”  Rafael implored. 

“It’s infected.  She’s not responding to the antibiotics.  We’re going to have to change tactics.” 

Rafael stepped out to call Valente and Benny while the nurse and now the doctor tended to Alex.  He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he would be in the way.  Maybe they could explain what she meant by it was happening again. 

* * *

Andrea appeared a half an hour later with a satchel in hand.  She noted the concern was running deep across his face. 

“Rafael, how is she?” 

“She has an infection.  They suspect it’s a drug resistant strain.  They’re using three antibiotics to fight it.  She started running a fever.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair.  “She started to panic and said it was happening again.  Andrea, what did she mean by that?  Alex didn’t tell me, she was panicked and…..”  Rafael was waving his hands around, finding himself in a situation he wasn’t familiar with. 

“Rafael,” Andrea, placed a hand on his arm, “Let’s go see my niece and talk.”

Alex was asleep when they entered.  Andrea placed the satchel on the table next to the couch then looked at Rafael, who had his attention focused on Alex.  Her chest was rising and falling steadily as rhythm of the monitor danced in steady cadence. 

“When the attack happened, Alex almost died from an infection.  She had been in intensive care for a week.  We weren’t sure if she would make it with the trauma she suffered.  Benny and I took shifts watching over her; praying and keeping vigil.  Kevin kept asking us if his mom was going to be with his dad and leave him.” 

“Christ,” he muttered.

“Those were dark days, Rafael.” 

“I would say that is an understatement.”

“Well, this time, I come prepared.  When she wakes up,” Andrea passed the satchel to Rafael, “steep some of this in hot water.  Make her drink all of it.  She’ll complain it tastes awful, but this will help her.  Do it twice a day until it’s all used up.”

Before he could speak, Andrea continued.

“While we believe in modern medicine, sometimes, the old ways are forgotten and lost in the process.  This helped Benny’s family for generations in the bayou.  They call it folk healing, but,” she sighed, “it is medicine.”

“I’ll make sure she drinks every drop,” he clutched it closed to his person. 

“I know you will,” Andrea smiled warmly.  “So, when are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“W-wait what?!”  Rafael was caught off guard by her blunt imploring. 

“I’m not stupid.  I’ve seen how you looked at her at Guiry’s and just now, how upset and panicked you were about her.  And, people talk.”

Before he could open his mouth, Andrea cut him off.

“You wear your emotions on your sleeve where my niece is concerned.  I know, she can be difficult and stubborn, keeping people at arm’s length and refusing to let anyone in, but, under the defenses and behind the walls, is a wounded heart; a heart that needs healing.”

Rafael couldn’t find his tongue.  Andrea simply looked at him with patient eyes.  He had been fighting what he had been feeling for a while now.  

“You have a great deal to think about and sort through, Rafael.  It is written on your face.”

“I don’t know what to say to her.”

“What you’re feeling; lying does not go over well with Alex.”

“I-I don’t know Andrea.”  Rafael scrubbed his hands over his face, unsure of what else to say.

It dawned on her. 

“You have been hurt by someone in the past.  That is part of what holds you back.”

“Not to mention my job kept me from having a life outside of the courtroom.  Any attempt at dating failed miserably.  Closest thing to a relationship I had was my professional relationship/friendship with Liv.”

“You cannot let the pain keep your heart closed.  The person who hurt you is trash.  Whatever life deals her it is deserved.”

Rafael stared incredulously at Andrea but knew she was right.  Had it been years sooner he may have defended Yelina, but, now.....

“If you continue to let that person keep a hold on you, you will never be able to love or be loved.”

He merely nodded.  He thought he had gotten past it, but apparently a sliver of him still held on.  It took someone he barely knew to call him on it. 

 “You’re right, Andrea.  She hurt me. She hurt me bad.  She ran around behind my back with someone whom I grew up with and considered a brother.  I suppose I wasn’t giving her what she wanted or felt she needed.”

“Trash,” she repeated. “A pretty trinket made of cheap metal that turns the skin green.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel?”  Andrea simply laughed.

“I speak the truth.  Now, I need to return to Guiry’s.  Remember, honesty, Rafael.”

* * *

A few hours later, Rafael found himself delving into the case files when he heard a small groan. 

“Welcome back,” he caught sight of Alex rubbing her eyes and attempting to shift her body in bed. 

“Damn it’s hot,” she subconsciously kicked the blankets off then started peeling away the sleep pants. 

“Probably the fever,” he went to fetch a cold cloth.  He returned and placed it on her forehead.  A tiny smile creased her lips.  It was a pathetic sight, seeing her laying there vulnerable and feeble. 

“Thanks.  You don’t have to stay here on my account.  I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed.”

“The couch isn’t that bad,” he shrugged.

She noticed the light stubble which graced his chin and sides of his face.  Maybe it was the fever, but she thought it looked good on him.  But she wouldn’t tell him.

“How are you feeling?” He took to dabbing the wet cloth across her face and neck, feeling it warm up from the searing heat that radiated from her skin.  It was soothing and reminded her of when she was ill with the flu and her aunt tended to her until the fever broke.

“My side feels like someone shoved a bunch of glass in it then dumped acid in the wound.  I really want a shower, but I’m drained.”

“Here,” he passed the plastic travel mug over.   Alex clutched it in her hands, welcoming the Arctic blast that rushed down her parched throat.  She couldn’t stop herself and emptied what had been left.  Alex shivered as her insides chilled.  Beat the sensation of internal fire raging within. 

“Really, you don’t have to be here.”

“Really, I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

“Thanks.  It is nice having someone here.  There’s so much Jerry and Maury I can take.”

“What?  Paternity drama not your thing?”

Alex simply rolled her eyes. 

“Your aunt was here and left something.  You are to drink the contents of that pouch.  If you don’t, I’ll call Henricksen.”

She sighed, knowing there was no choice.  Alex really didn’t need the former Marine drill instructor on her.  You can take Henricksen out of the Marine Corps, but you can never take the Marine Corps out of Henricksen. 

She watched him leave to find some hot water, leaving her alone. He was going out of his way to stick by her.  Surely, he missed being in his own bed and using his own shower.  But he had chosen to remain here, in this lovely hospital room with her in all her partially clad, sweaty, infected, injured glory.  He had chosen to help her through this despite a demanding workload.  Alex was moved by this display of selflessness. 

The gentle pressure of the icy cloth against her skin startled her. 

“Sorry,” he didn’t let up with the tender dabs. 

“I zoned out,” she shook her head.  “This feels good.  This fever…….”

“Hey, what happened is not your fault.  That bastard shot you.”

“I heard our Belgian friend is in ICU.”

“Yeah, Morris and Cole got him.”

“Good.  I hope he’s suffering that son of a bitch.”

Rafael continued his soothing strokes, seeing Alex relax more.  He learned this from his Mami when he was sick, and it always felt really good to have that icy chill against his searing skin.  The air brushing over his exposed arms, face, and neck only enhanced the sensation.

“Thank you for being here.  It’s nice having someone here.  It draws away from the pain.”

_Physically and mentally……_

She clutched his hand with both of hers, absently stroking her thumb over his. It was rough as she thought, but then again, hers weren’t exactly silk to the touch either. 

“I don’t plan on leaving.”

“I’m sure the office may feel differently.”

Rafael chuckled.  “Nice thing about being a Federal ADA, I can work from home or remotely if needed when it’s not court day.  This includes working near the bedside of a colleague and friend.”

He stopped himself from saying girlfriend or implying anything romantic. 

“Or pain in the ass Marshals,” she added to lighten the mood.

“That too,” he laughed.  “But, you’re not that big of a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure the first day you felt otherwise.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. 

“It’s okay.  I’ve been told I can be abrasive.”

Rafael said nothing.  Instead, he resolved to sit beside her, letting her keep his hand for as long as she wanted. 

* * *

He waited until she was asleep and slipped out of her room. 

The elevator groaned to a stop on the 8th floor. 

Rafael made his way down the vacant corridor towards Room 1245.  A few visitors and a nurse passed him going the opposite way but didn’t cast a second glance back. 

He reached his destination, pausing to observe the debilitated and pathetic stature of a man in the bed.  The tubes continued pumping fluids in his body, preventing dehydration.  The quiet rhythm of the monitor indicated the bastard was still alive. 

Rafael realized how easy it could be to flip a switch or pull a plug but exercised great restraint.  He wanted the son of a bitch to live; to deprive Alex or any of the team justice was inexcusable.  This human piece of trash had to pay for what happened. 

“Not worth my effort,” Rafael muttered before turning and walking away. 

* * *

Alex didn’t break the fever for another three days. 

She slept on and off, sometimes awake long enough for food, but it wasn’t much.  During one of those moments of lucidity, she had given Dean permission to take what she didn’t as he wasn’t one to let food go to waste. 

“So, I heard Barba’s been camped out here.”

Valente managed to stop by over his lunch break.  The agents had been up to their hips in evidence against the arms dealer, determined to hand over an air-tight case to Rafael. 

“Yeah, I told him to go home but for some reason he would rather hang out here in this lovely home away from home.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad is it?” 

Alex shook her head.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve enjoyed and been thankful for him being here.  I know, shocking right?”

“Actually, Lex, no.” 

Her face dropped. 

“It’s obvious.  You like him.  I mean, I feel like I’m running circles around the subject.”

She wasn’t sure to say to Valente.  Alex knew something was there but…….

“Am I interrupting something?” Rafael stood in the doorway.

“No,” Alex waved him in.   “Don’t you have court?” 

“Tomorrow,” Rafael shook his head.  “I wanted to stop in, see how you were doing.”

“If the fever stays gone for 24 hours, I can go home a day after that.  My side doesn’t look like spoiled Ricotta.”

“That’s……good,” her choice in visual imagery was interesting. 

“I talked to Kevin and got him calmed down after 10 minutes.  If he gets his work done, he wants to come down over the weekend and make sure I’m not going to rip out my stitches as he put it.  Uncle Benny and Aunt Andrea came by earlier and brought more tea.  They said to stop by after work.”

“I’ll do that,” Rafael nodded. 

“Valente, can you give us a moment?”  Alex asked. 

“Yeah, I need to head back anyways or Henricksen is gonna be hunting me down.”

He hurried out leaving them alone. 

“Is everything alright, Alex?”  Rafael wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or anxious. 

“Yeah, it is,” she grabbed his closest hand.  “Over the last few weeks, I’ve been struggling with my emotions; my emotions regarding you.”

Rafael listened, covering her hand with his other one. 

“When Gad died, I shut myself off from everyone one.  My thinking was anyone who was close to me would get hurt or worse, so I threw myself into work.  For seven years, I kept my heart closed.  Then, then you came along.  Snarky, sometimes arrogant, could be a pain in my ass,” she paused and took a breath, “but also bore a hole in the wall I threw up to protect my heart, my soul.”

Alex paused before continuing. 

“After I was shot and fighting this infection, it made me realize I care about you; a lot more than I should let myself.”

Alex was relieved but in the same breath she also experienced a heaviness settling over her. 

“Alex, what’s wrong?” 

“I told myself not let you in; to keep you at arm’s length.  But I didn’t listen, to myself.” 

Rafael sat there, seeing her struggle with this. 

“Alex, please listen to me.  I can’t begin to understand the emotional Hell you have been through.  Spending that time closed off, hurting, and alone; refusing to let anyone in.”

Before she could speak up, Rafael continued.

“But I need to tell you something as well.  You haven’t been the only one fighting your feelings.”

Alex’s mouth dropped. 

“Your aunt, she called me out on it a few days ago.  She said I wore them on my sleeve.  I wasn’t sure what to say to you as you were in the throws of a raging infection and after Yelina…..”

“Yelina?”

Rafael nodded.  “Yeah, she hurt me really bad.  She’s why I never had another relationship.”

“Bitch did you dirty?”  The words flowed before Alex’s brain caught up.  Rafael just stared at her.  Alex felt her face reddening as she covered her face with her free hand. 

_Way to go dumbass!_

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, she did, Alex.  I told your aunt this and she said ‘Trash.  A pretty trinket made of cheap metal that turns the skin green.’”

“That sounds like Aunt Andrea.” 

“Well, she gave me that push I needed to tell you, now.” 

Alex felt her heart racing which was picked up by the monitor. 

“These few months, I wrestled with these feelings.  Hell, I was in denial for a time about it.  Seeing you that first day, I thought I was in for a fight.  You were abrasive to put it mildly.  But then, I saw that other side, the side you battle to keep concealed from the world.”

His other hand captured hers.  His soulful emerald eyes pleaded with her, holding her icy blues for several moments. 

“It’s a lot, I know.”

She couldn’t find her voice as words died upon her tongue. 

“I have to head back to the office.  I’ll come by later.” 

“I’d love that,” she smiled.  Her face was sweaty from the fever continuing to break.  Her hands were getting slick, but Rafael didn’t care.  A heavy weight had been lifted.

For both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!! They admit their feelings to one another!!

**Author's Note:**

> Love my readers. 
> 
> See ya next chapter when our newly minted US District Attorney and Marshal come face to face.


End file.
